


To Break Every Bended Knee; or, Apocrypha

by vellaphoria



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angel Tim, Father Todd, Incubus Dick, M/M, Multi, halfhearted tarot motifs, involuntary road trips, questionable interpretations of religion, tags will be updated on a per-chapter basis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vellaphoria/pseuds/vellaphoria
Summary: Father Todd liked to think he was an average priest. Sure, he kept a couple of Glocks behind his lectern. And yes, he’d had a history with cults and had been brought back from the dead three years previous. Stranger things than that had happened in Gotham.But nothing so strange as the demoness who resurrected him coming back to collect on his life debt. With orders to smuggle a literal angel of the Lord across the country with nothing but his wits, an unhelpful incubus, and a piece of junk car in a race against Hell...They say that the Lord works in mysterious ways. Mostly, Jason just thinks the bastard has it out for him.





	1. Hell to Pay

She came for him before dawn.

The early morning service had just concluded. The last of the lingering worshipers drifted sleepily out into the still-dark streets as the echoes of their footsteps faded from the vaulted rafters.

Jason didn’t bother to watch them go. Instead, he moved to stand before the altar once more, sweeping aside his stole as he knelt.

The few candles that he’d reserved for morning worship guttered in the dregs of their wax, casting flickering light upon the hour’s final _Ave Maria_. They were barely enough to fight back the wash of neon red that threatened to flood the room. The Narrows’ omnipresent ambiance; held back by nothing more than dying flames, stained-glass windows, and what Jason laughed to think of as _sacred ground_.

Sacred, his ass. Just the week before he’d had to stop a near-confrontation between some of Black Mask’s thugs and Two Face’s goons. Lucky him, he’d stopped a firefight from breaking out in the middle of a service.

It didn’t stop at Gotham’s criminal element, either.

He’d seen some _shit_. One time, some blonde asshole with a cigarette and a trenchcoat broke in at ass-o-clock in the morning and went straight from trying to rob the damn place to trying to hit on Jason. Another time, this motherfucker with a cross burned into his fucking _face_ was literally _floating_ above his congregation and ranting about how Gotham would burn in sin. It probably says more about the city than the madman that the congregation barely even reacted.

So, really, if Talia was expecting him to be _surprised_ , she’d just have to find another damn priest.

He’d give her this, though: the bitch always had known how to make an entrance.

In an instant, a hot, sharp wind materialized in the church. It slammed open the two heavy, oak doors at its entrance. The gale tore through the nave to blow back against itself in the church’s apse. Jason’s robes billowed around him, the extra fabric caught helplessly in the strength of the gust. The candles before him extinguished in a decisive hush. Around him, the church drowned in crimson light.

 _How appropriate_.

Smoke curled up from the candles’ charred wicks. The smell of sage and burning hellebore choked the air. It wafted easily to where Jason knelt before the high altar and the gilded reredos beyond it. He blinked against the sting of it, wetness welling in his eyes even as he willed it away. She couldn’t be allowed to see any _weakness._

His grip tightened on the rosary. The string pulled taut beneath his hands, trembling. But he continued the devotion. His lips formed around silent words. Tension-stiff fingers counted off each prayer _,_ their tips pressed to bloodlessness against the wooden beads. The dangling cross quivered with the almost imperceptible tremor in Jason’s hands, the gold of it glinting even in the hellish neon.

He jolted as his fingers hit the last bead, brushing the top of the crucifix, its cold metal a shock after the dullness of wood. He gritted his teeth against it, forgetting silence as he finished.

“Pray for us sinners,” he intoned. His voice was still rough from a night and a morning of sermons but undercut with the sort of spite he knew she _lived_ for. “Now and–”

“And at the hour of our death. _Amen_ ,” Talia said. Her voice seemed to surround him. A raspy contralto, straight from Jason’s long-buried memories. Or maybe his nightmares. “Though wouldn’t you agree it’s a little late for _that_ , beloved?”

Jason looked up.

She sat casually on the high altar before him, one leg crossed over the other in a way that made her dress ride up just enough to be intentional.

Jason knew better than to tell her to get off of it.

“Talia,” he said instead, rising to his feet.

He stepped forward, moving to re-light one of the candles that her entrance had snuffed out. But she held a hand out before he reached it, summoning a small flame to the tip of her finger and touching it to the wick. Jason grunted with something that might have been annoyance if he’d still had a death wish.

“It’s been a while,” he said.

“Has it?” Talia asked, holding the finger before her to blow the flame out. Smoke rose from it, curling around the sharp angles of her face and the dark red plushness of her lips.

“I can’t say _this_ is what I expected to find when I decided to track you down,” Talia purred. She reached out, hooking a single, immaculately manicured finger in the folds of Jason’s cassock, pulling him forward, light but insistent. Previous experience had taught him that fighting it would be more pain that it was worth, so Jason stepped forward. Talia uncrossed her legs, parting them. She dragged him between them until he was nearly flush with her. Sitting on the altar, she was nearly the same height as him.

He’d been here before. It never led anywhere good.

Her free hand came to his face. Long, red nails traced the line of his jaw, followed the path of his jugular down his neck, and came to rest against his stiff white collar.

“But,” she said, hooking her finger beneath it, “I must admit you cut _quite_ a dashing figure like this. Perhaps we should have given those a bit more thought to collaring you while you were in my _care._ Or perhaps… you’d like to give it some thought _now_ …”

If Jason had ever been of a mind to blush at something like that, excessive time spent around Talia had _thoroughly_ devested him of the impulse. He only fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“The offer is… appreciated, Talia. But I’ve taken vows.”

Talia threw back her head, her hair slipping behind her in waves as she laughed.

“Jason. _Darling_. Vows are _made_ to be broken. All our time together and I never suspected _you_ to be one for _propriety_.” She smiled in the way that Jason had come to associate with either Talia knowing something he didn’t or the open jaws of a hungry shark.

“ _But,_ ” she said, continuing, “I suppose that _pious_ little attitude will serve you well in the coming days.”

Jason didn’t take the bait. Still trapped against her, he reached for the next candle – shifting away from Talia. Her grip on his collar tightened. She wouldn’t let him go far, but that didn’t mean he had to _look_ at her.

Out of the corner of his eye, she sighed. Jason reached for the next candle, and then the next one after that. He didn’t acknowledge her.

She glared daggers at him. But just because Talia’s looks _could_ kill, that didn’t mean that they _would._ She’d come here for a reason after all – it was just a matter of annoying her to the point of actually _telling him what it was_.

Eventually, she exhaled sharply. A small plume of smoke chased her breath. It carried the acrid sting of her impatience.

“I’m calling in your debt,” she said, just barely above a whisper.

Jason jolted before he caught himself. Talia’s eyes narrowed. He’d had a feeling but… still. He had to fight against the urge to stand as straight as if someone had stabbed him with a hot iron. His heart tripped into double time. He didn’t look, but he didn’t have to. Talia yanked him closer once more, and he _felt_ her smile at his inability to hide the reaction.

“Effective immediately,” she whispered, flame-hot breath ghosting against his ear.

There’s a difference between knowing you owe someone something some day in the distant future and being faced with the reality of them looking to collect.

“Why now?” He asked, forcing his voice steady. Her grip tightened. The edge of her nail pierced the skin of his neck. Jason’s blood felt hot against the sudden chill between them.

“Because I _said_ now,” Talia snapped. Her corporeal form threw off heat like a furnace, but even pressed this close to her, Jason couldn’t help but shiver.

The silence around them hung heavy and fraught. The re-lit candles flickered dangerously. They held no insight for him, no matter how desperately Jason stared.

Finally, Jason turned to look at Talia once more. Her face was inscrutable, giving nothing away. It never did.

“For fuck’s sake,” he growled, “just tell me what you want already.”

“ _Language,_ Father,” she purred, smirking down at Jason’s expression. He hoped it conveyed the full extent of his frustration with her continued existence.

“Very well,” Talia huffed, rolling her eyes and extending a single, slightly-smoking hand between them. “Come with me.”

Refusing Talia was generally a bad idea. Like, a ‘you shall be consigned to an eternity of indescribably horrific torture in an abyss of burning winds, so do not test me, Jason’ sort of bad idea.

Jason took her hand, and she used it to pull herself down from the altar like she didn’t have enough superhuman strength to crush all of Jason’s bones with a flick of her little finger. She tugged him forward, practically dragging him to the stairs leading to the lower levels of the church. Down here, at least, had electric lighting. Talia wasn’t liable to make _that_ go out without causing a power surge.

She dragged him to the depths of the church. To what Jason remembered was a storage room.

Talia opened the room’s door easily, the tumblers of the lock sliding open without so much as a whispered word from her.

The room had been rearranged since the last time Jason had been in there. The boxes and bins of supplies had all been shoved to the sides of the room. Precariously, in some places.

But it was the center of the room that really grabbed Jason’s attention.

“The _fuck_ is _that_?” His shout echoed against the masonry, but Talia’s glare silenced him before he could go any further.

“Exactly what he looks like,” she said.

Jason wasn’t too sure about that. Because the center of the room looked very suspiciously like it was being taken up by a vaguely human-shaped thing with a mess of _giant goddamn wings_ sprawling out all over the place.

“Sure. I’ve always wanted an oversized pigeon,” Jason snarked.

Talia didn’t strike him, but it was a _near_ thing. Her glare alone felt three seconds away from lighting Jason’s robes on fire.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” he relented. “Debts repaid and all that shit. But what the hell am I supposed to _do_ with… whatever that is?”

“You will _do as you’re told_ ,” Talia hissed, infuriatingly vague. Jason crossed his arms, glaring. He inched a foot forward, nudging the…whatever it was with the toe of his shoe.

No movement.

“Is it dead?” Jason asked, already calculating how much time he had before the sun came up over Gotham. How long it would take to drag a body to the harbor versus the effort inherent in digging a hole big enough to fit those fucking _wings_ in it. If any of the gangs would be skulking around the Narrows this morning to make the work more difficult.

Talia side-eyed him, giving an appreciative hum that he remembered her favoring whenever Jason had come up with a practical solution to one of her problems. Five years of their acquaintance and she could read his mind as easily as he drew breath. Somehow, he’d forgotten just how invasive standing next to her could be.

“Sadly, no.” She sounded legitimately disappointed. “Unfortunately, these groveling sycophants are a little harder to kill than all that.” She hummed thoughtfully, placing a single nail to her lips. They curved into a smile that sent ice shooting down Jason’s spine. “However, it _does_ mean that you can torture them for _centuries_.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. In his experience, Talia didn’t make idle threats.

“Oh, _relax_ ,” she said, clapping a hand on the back of Jason’s shoulder. It forced the breath out of his lungs. “It wasn’t me.”

Jason raised an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t me _this_ time,” Talia clarified. “ _And_ I got him out before they could do any _permanent_ damage, so I did him a favor, really. He is simply… underpowered. At the moment.”

Jason glanced down at the… feathery thing.

When he didn’t respond, Talia shrugged. She followed through on the movement, using it to take a step farther into Jason’s personal space than he had been comfortable with in a long time. Her hand came up to his chest, hot as a brand even through layers of stiff fabric.

“Which is what I need _you_ for.” Talia’s smirk adopted a particular jaunt that had always meant Jason would _not_ be happy with what she was about to say. “Normally I wouldn’t care _what_ happens to a member of the host, but _this_ one stole something important from someone _extremely_ powerful. I, for one, would prefer it if what he took were to _remain_ stolen. Thus, I need someone discrete and reliable to keep him on the move so that the powers that be within The Fire cannot find him and finish what they started.”

“Back up.” Jason said, still trying to wrap his head around it. “ _The Host?_ You’re actually telling me this feathery bastard’s an _angel?_ They _exist?_ ”

The look Talia gave him was dryer than the Sahara.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said. He couldn’t tell if it was more patronizing or pitying. She raised a hand and gestured at herself in an obvious manner. “Where do you think _we_ came from?”

He’d always assumed Talia had just emerged from some fiery pit, fully formed from the spite and arrogance of some long-lost civilization.

Not that he’d ever actually _tell_ her that.

“That’s… yeah, okay. Fair enough.” Jason allowed. To be fair, Talia _was_ the only non-human he’d ever met up close (Gotham’s vaguely supernatural-themed crazies notwithstanding), and even _her_ existence still threw him for a loop sometimes.

“But aren’t angels supposed to be, I don’t know, concentric rings or fucking chimera headed freaks or something?”

Talia laughed, shadows shifting in her dark hair. “From your perspective, I suppose some of them might appear as such.”

“But not him?”

“No.” And she left it at that, giving Jason a look that told him she was bored with the subject.

He looked back at the apparent angel on the floor of his storeroom.

“You want me to ‘keep him on the move.’ What _exactly_ do you mean by that? Also, _how?”_

“There’s a car waiting for you two outside. Understated, but it will suffice. You will take him and drive… somewhere. I don’t exactly care where as long as it isn’t here. Haste will be paramount, of course; they will discover he is missing soon, and I’m afraid my presence here will have caused enough of a power spike to give them an idea as to where he went. _Not_ that they’ll know it was me. If they find him in _your_ church, on the other hand…”

Jason got the idea. He’d seen some of Hell’s worst, and exactly _what_ they did to people they had problems with…Talia didn’t look even remotely sorry that she’d led them right here.

She aimed a sharp kick at the angel, her expensive-looking shoe catching on the junction of a wing. This time, he twitched a little.

“I’d get started if I were you. He isn’t going to be returning to his friends anytime soon at this rate,” she said. Her voice was bright with enthusiasm that Jason felt the situation didn’t really warrant. Her eyes were… well. He’d seen that _look_ before. He had a sudden urge to cross his arms over his chest, even though there were already several layers of cloth between the two of them.

“And as charming as… all of _that_ is, beloved, it doesn’t quite –.” The hand returned to Jason’s chest. Without warning, his clothes began to melt. Like actually, legitimately _melt_. Fabrics and colors blended together, thickening and darkening until Jason found himself wearing dark leather and faded jeans – the sort of thing he hadn’t worn since his earliest days with Talia.

He looked down. Talia smirked.

She’d left the collar. 

“It suits you,” she said, words curling through the air along with the edges of her physical form. Just like that. Exactly like it always did right before she got the fuck out of dodge. 

“Hold on a second,” Jason caught her arm. Talia glared at the contact but didn’t move to throw him off. The smoke receded, and her flesh solidified once more. “You don’t even know where the fuck I’m supposed to be taking him? Does _he_ even know where to go? How do you expect me to do _any_ of this without even telling me–“

Her eyes sparked, irises flashing to a bloody red. Her shoulder was hot to the touch, as if fire was burning beneath it. Fuck, that might even be _literal_.

Jason released her arm, yanking his hand back.

“I _expect you_ to repay what you owe to me, in full.” Talia hissed. It sounded layered, a legion of voices speaking her words in unison in the way that Jason only ever heard when Talia was _royally_ pissed off. “This is a _less_ than equal exchange, _beloved_ , but as you are incapable of bringing _any_ being back from the dead, this is the next best thing. Consider it _merciful_ that my affection for you has driven me to release you from my service so easily.”

A box to Jason’s left caught fire, the improvised padding of wadded-up newspapers poking out of the top of it blackened and turned to ash. Then another box. Two more.

 _Shit_. He had to stop this before she decided to burn the whole church down in a fit of pique. 

“ _Fine!_ ” Jason shouted, looking around frantically for a way to put the fire out. Talia smiled. With a snap of her fingers, the flames vanished, thought the box and its contents remained charred beyond hope.

He whipped back around to face her. “Just don’t light anything else on fire. Jesus _Christ_.”

She wagged her finger like she hadn’t just been about to go full demon in the basement of his church. “Taking your Lord’s name in vain, _Father Todd_. Not very ‘holy’ behavior, is it? Maybe you aren’t as cut out for this life as you look…”

Jason counted to ten. Slowly. She was just trying to get a rise out of him. To make him mess up.

In front of them, the angel seemed to be waking up. One wing twitched, and then an arm. The mound of flesh and feathers let out a moan of vague dissatisfaction.

“That’s your cue,” Talia said, cocking a hip. “I have to go back downstairs to do some damage control, but if you manage to survive the day, an associate of mine will find you and help with the rest.”

“An _associate?_ Hold on Talia, you can’t just–”

She cut him off, probably uncaring of his petty mortal concerns like _being forced into a road trip with neither warning nor destination._

“You’ll know him when you see him,” Talia said dismissively. “I have to go now, but please believe that I have the _utmost_ faith in you to handle this. That said, please try your hardest not to die horrifically. It’d be such a waste…”

“Talia, wait – “

“I almost forgot,” Talia said, leaning into him, closer than close. The tips of her maybe-nails-maybe-talons trailed down his abdomen. Jason’s mind went blank. Like static on an empty channel.

Before Jason really knew _what_ she was doing, Talia’s hand had located and left a front pocket of his newfound jeans. With it came his phone. The one that had apparently survived the transformation of his clothes.

A single sharp nail came to rest at the base of Jason’s throat. He wasn’t in the mood to have an improvised tracheotomy, so he didn’t try to grab it back.

“This can’t come with you,” Talia said. Her hand curled into a fist and squeezed, Jason’s phone crumpling within it. Small, glittering shards of the screen fell to the floor between them. She dropped the warped metal frame and it landed amongst them. A fire burned behind Jason’s eyes at the gall of it, but the point at his throat kept him from acting on it.

“Nothing with GPS,” she continued, “no personal devices. No credit cards. If you need to make a call, use a payphone. Don’t be found within a five-mile radius once you’ve finished. Try to cheat on this and Hell will track you down and kill you like a stray dog, and get some _real_ use out of that pretty collar of yours.”

“What.” Jason said it flatly. “Is Hell the NSA or some shit?”

Talia smirked.

“Oh,” Talia reached a hand into _somewhere_ , pulling out what looked like… a pack of playing cards? “And he’ll need this.”

“What the fuck is–”

“Figure it out,” Talia cut him off. Her smile was disgustingly saccharine. “And remember: I’m counting on you.”

“Hold the fuck on–”

But she was gone between one second and the next, leaving nothing but the smell of hellebore and brimstone behind her.

Jason blinked at the emptiness, words still caught in his throat. He tried to wave away the smoke left in her wake but only succeeded in inhaling it. Thick and acrid, it sent him coughing. An echo of a laugh caught in his ears, mocking him.

As if he needed even more to hold against her.

A sharp inhale punctured the quiet, cutting the threads stringing together Jason’s train of thought. As the last spasm left his lungs, he looked down to the floor where the apparent angel had begun to shift. First slowly, then all at once, he began to look less like something out of the New Testament and more like a college student who was both desperately in need of a haircut and wearing a hoodie of questionable taste. Also, he had six giant, crimson and gold feathered wings. For some reason.

The angel of the goddamn Lord glared up at him, propping himself up on his questionable hoodie-clad arms. He bared too-white teeth, snarling as he scrambled to his feet, sliding into a low crouch. If looks other than Talia’s could kill, Jason was pretty sure that he’d be dead a second time over.

Jason put his hands up, going for placating, but he otherwise stood his ground. No way was this feathery fuck getting out of here without a fight. Or at least without explaining … _any_ of this first.

Across from him, the guy's wings shot up in a threat display. The effect was somewhat ruined by the way the angel winced so sharply he nearly stumbled over his own feet.

“Hey, calm down.” Jason reached a hand out, palm up. “Take it easy or you’re going to make it worse.” When the angel curled in on himself a bit but stayed where he was, Jason took a step closer.

That was a mistake.

In a flash, the guy's jaw practically _unhinged_ , unleashing an inhuman screech. Wings flared out with a painful-sounding snap. They drove him up and forward quickly. Too quickly. Jason threw his arms up, blocking his face. But the... whatever this guy was was already on him, knocking him back and forcing his arms above his head with superhuman strength. The screeching didn’t stop until he had Jason pinned, one hand holding Jason’s wrists fast to the floor below, the other wrapped around his throat. If he were a normal person, Jason would have _easily_ outclassed him in strength and height. He could have thrown him clear across the room.

It was becoming abundantly clear that angels were nothing like normal people.

An invisible mass – more than could have been contained in the angel’s scrawny body – pressed down on him, keeping him in place despite the straining of Jason’s muscles.

“Get the fuck off me!” Jason shouted, trying to twist his way out of the hold. “I’m _trying_ to _help_.”

The angel dug bony knees into Jason’s sides, holding him still with no small amount of sharp pain. The angel opened his mouth. No sound came out. He drew breath deep enough that Jason could feel the expansion of the angel’s lungs against his chest. But his for his second attempt, all Jason heard was a quiet, rasping sort of sound that might have been words but, in a human, might also have been damaged vocal cords.

The angel hissed in frustration. His head jerked to the side quickly and unnaturally. Taking the wings into account, he looked like a damn bird for all of the two seconds that Jason had to contemplate that.

It was a short two seconds.

Pressure washed over him, cutting off all thoughts other than _they didn’t cover this in seminary school_. A vise clamped down on Jason’s head. Whispers slid beneath his skin, spoken in harsh languages Jason didn’t recognize. They burned like _fire_. Like molten metal poured straight into his heart, pumped out to scorch his body through his veins. Jason hadn’t even felt that kind of awful the first time Talia had pressed her hand to his forehead and _pried_ his brain open on a metaphysical level.

At last, the angel opened his mouth, and words came forth. _English_ words, which – at this point – really shouldn’t have been all that surprising to Jason. Maybe he was just having an off night. So sue him.

“ _Father_ Jason Todd,” the angel muttered. He said it like the words left a bad taste in his mouth. The pressure disappeared all at once. Jason sucked in a desperate breath. His lungs barely had time to appreciate it when an arm slammed back down on his throat. Jason choked. It felt like an iron bar.

The angel pressed harder. Any more and the pressure would crush his windpipe.

“Well, that answers _who_ you are, but there’s something…”

“Something you can’t get from _reading my goddamn mind?_ ” Jason croaked, the words barely sounding like _words_ around the pressure.

The angel smirked. Honest to god _smirked._ But there was something like curiosity hiding behind his eyes.

“Clever,” he said. “Humans normally can’t tell _what_ I’m doing to them. But if Talia brought me to _you_ – I suppose you’re not just a regular human, are you? A priest associating with demons. Now _that’s_ a story I’d like to hear.”

“You do this often?” Jason sneered. The angel raised an eyebrow. “Ok, creep. Have it your way. Why should I tell you _shit?_ ”

“Why do I get the feeling you _can’t?_ ”

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?”

The angel paused. Blinked. Whatever he was looking for at the back of Jason’s eyeballs, he didn’t seem to find it.

All at once, he relented. The angel sat up, keeping Jason’s legs pinned but freeing his torso and, more importantly, his throat. Jason’s hands flew to his neck, feeling out any damage. Nothing permanent, thankfully. But the feathery bastard just stared down at him with this expression that could have been a thousand things so long as none of them were remorse.

“Talia might be smarter than I give her credit for,” the angel said, finally standing. He held a hand out to where Jason was still sprawled on the floor. Jason batted it away, pushing himself to his own goddamn feet.

“Smart and sneaky ain’t always the same thing, feathers.”

The angel shrugged like he wasn’t going to dispute the point, but then made a face. “That isn’t my name,” he said, turning away from Jason.

He was going to make him ask, wasn’t he? Of all the celestial beings that supposedly existed in the world and beyond it, Jason had to get stuck with _this_ sort of prick.

“I’m going to regret this,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand in the hair at the back of his neck. “Ok, _fine._ What’s your – ”

“No.” The angel cut him off. Jason stared.

“What do you mean ‘no’? No _what?_ ”

“No, I’m not going to tell you my name,” the angel clarified.

Fucking mind readers. What was he supposed to do? Come up with increasingly ridiculous nicknames for Talia’s escaped convict of a jailbird until he managed to shake him?

“Hilarious,” the feathered freak deadpanned. “But no one is shaking anyone. And I didn’t say you couldn’t call me _anything_. Just not that.”

Jason … didn’t want to know why. This was honestly out of his pay grade.

The angel tilted his head, smiling in a way that Jason thought was a touch too vindictive for an emissary of the Lord.

“Too bad,” the angel said. “I’m telling you anyway. First, you couldn’t pronounce my name even if you tried. And I’m not going to subject myself to you attempting and failing to speak the Word. Second, even if you _could_ say it correctly, so much as whispering it would cause your eardrums to burst, your tongue to catch fire, and your eyes to drip from their sockets as you tried and failed to behold the glory ascribed to one of my kind by our Creator.”

Now Jason _really_ didn’t want to know what it was. But he had to call this guy _something_ , didn’t he? And if the guy was offended by ‘feathers’ –

“Tim,” the angel said.

Jason had to double take.

“Sorry, _what?_ ”

“You can call me Tim,” the angel reiterated, beginning to look impatient.

It was a look that quickly morphed into confusion and vague disgust when Jason buckled, laughing.

“I’m - _heh_ – I’m sorry. _What?_ You go by _Tim_. An angel of fucking _God_ and he calls himself– “

“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘fear not?’”

Jason was too busy stifling laughter to remind the angel – sorry, _Tim_ – that as an ordained priest of the Catholic church, yes, he had read the Bible.

“Tim’ seemed to get the message anyway.

“Well, I advise silence unless you’d like a _demonstration_ ,” he deadpanned, stepping forward to grab Jason’s shoulder. He might as well have been carved from stone for all the give in his grip. “Pull yourself together, _Father._ Make whatever arrangements you need to, and _get a fucking move on_. You’re a mortal. I’m running on reserve power. If we don’t leave now, _we are going to die._ Do you understand?”

There was so much to unpack there that it barely even registered that Jason had just heard an angel _swear._

“Hold right the fuck on. I’m not going _anywhere_ with you, you fucking feathered freak. And if you think you can – ”

With one hand, Tim – who was just barely _half_ the size of Jason’s own muscled bulk – _picked him up_. Bodily. And pulled him into a fireman’s carry.

“What the fuck are you _doing_ – “ Jason struggled. He beat his fists against Tim. He tried to throw off the comparatively _tiny_ bands of implacable pressure that were Tim’s arms. All of this did nothing.

“What I have to.” Tim carried him out of the room, up the stairs, and into the church proper. The candles on the altar were still burning where Jason had relit them. No sign of Talia.

“You can’t just _abduct a priest_.”

“Can and am,” Tim said flippantly. “Besides, if I left you here to get killed, Talia would _personally_ subject me to an eternity of torture. I, for one, do _not_ want to see how creative a few hundred millennia underground has made her.”

That… yeah. That sounded like Talia. But still. Jason ground his teeth at Tim’s tone, but they were already halfway across the nave and there was _nothing_ Jason could do but pray and hope for some sort of miracle.

A miracle was not, in fact, what answered him.

They made it as far as the church doors.

Without warning, Tim swung around, nearly smacking Jason’s face against one of the handles.

For the second time that morning, a harsh, _burning_ gust blew through the church. Brimstone, again. But no sage. No hellebore. Whatever caused it _wasn’t_ Talia.

Beneath him, Tim froze.

An unearthly, bloodcurdling screech came from the direction Tim was facing. All at once, he threw Jason down on the church’s floor.

Jason scrambled to his feet, his back against the doors.

What he saw was…

Something in the back of Jason’s head was _screaming._

The _thing_ in the middle of the church flickered in and out of Jason’s sight.

The air around it wavered like a desert horizon.

Jason could barely make it out. But the moment that he _could_ , he knew it would be an image seared into his brain for the rest of his natural life. Possibly longer.

It was many-limbed. Pale, skeletal things covered in patchy chitin like some sort of zombie praying mantis. Their joints and the main body were half-covered in eyes and the parts that weren’t were covered in mouths. Wide, gaping things full of sharp teeth barely hidden behind splitting lips. Blood ran from them, dripping slowly to the floor.

Jason stood frozen. Tim’s eyes narrowed.

The minute he faced the... _whatever_ it was, three hundred eyes that had been twitching rolled wildly in unison. Then they stared straight at them. Unwavering.

The thing took a step, one disconcertingly human leg stretching out through the superheated air. The aisle’s carpet sizzled and blackened beneath it as the thing tried to use the leverage of a single foothold to pull itself forward.

Tim took a step back. Another. Until he was pressed against the door just like Jason.

An arm shot out from the thing, gripping one of the nearby pews. Bone-white claws dug into dark wood. It splintered and caught fire. A chunk broke off of the pew’s back, sending the creature shrieking a bloodcurdling, inhuman screech.

The claws skittered across the pew until the thing found another handhold. It pulled its body another inch farther out of wherever it was coming from.

“Open the fucking door,” Tim hissed in Jason’s ear.

Jason stood frozen.

“Oh, for the love of – “

With something that may have been a battle cry, Tim turned and slammed both of his palms into the door. The things flew wide, sending heavy wood smashing against the masonry. The sound echoed in the empty streets of the Narrows.

Tim hunched over, panting from the effort. His hand shot out, grabbing Jason’s arm. The touch felt like it was burning him, even through the leather.

“Come _on!_ ” He shouted, pulling at Jason.

A jolt traveled down Tim’s hand, sparking through Jason’s arm.

His senses came back to him all at once.

The _thing_ was closer, its mouths all stretched wide in savage, hungry grins.

They had to _go._

“Don’t tell me twice!” Jason said, stepping backward with Tim’s pull and speeding down the stairs.

There was no time to close the doors and lock up the church. Hell, there wasn’t even time to ask Tim were exactly they were going.

There was just running and the chilling, inhuman screech of the _thing_ echoing in the street behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't start another WIP they said. You have too many already they said.
> 
> Well, they're right. But I don't care :D
> 
> Also, a shout out to salazarastark for inadvertently convincing me to dust off my WIP folder and pull this out of it! (and for double-checking the summary for me!)
> 
> The title is borrowed from "Pagan Angel and a Borrowed Car" by Iron and Wine, and combined with the term used for biblical works of unknown authorship and/or dubious origin.


	2. The Devil's in the Details

They were two neighborhoods and one bridge away from the church by the time Jason finally had to double over, his lungs heaving for oxygen. 

He sagged back against the dark window of a conveniently placed bodega and let the blissfully cool glass support his weight. A burn in his thighs reminded him how much more time he’d been spending on weights than cardio recently. Sweat collected unpleasantly between the leather jacket and the places where the shirt’s sleeves didn’t reach. The back of his shoulder itched, but he couldn’t find the will to scratch it.

The angel came to a stop three feet away from him, at the other edge of the sidewalk. Aside from a tenseness in the set of his shoulders and a twitch in his left eye, he seemed barely worse for wear.

Fucking  _ showoff _ .

Tim narrowed his eyes. 

“The hell you lookin’ at?” Jason sneered.

Tim blinked twice at him before disregarding that entirely. Instead, he glanced back in the direction from which they’d come. The streetlights at the distant intersection flickered dimly against the dark, but Jason estimated there were about thirty minutes before it would be bright enough to see without them.

In contrast, the lights surrounding the two of them were almost blinding, reflecting off of the metallic sheen of Tim’s wings. 

Jason found himself staring.

It’s not like he’d somehow  _ forgotten _ about them while they ran away from that  _ thing _ . They just hadn’t exactly been his most pressing concern. But now, with time to breathe and no crazy demonesses to yank his chain around, Jason finally had a moment to  _ look _ .

In the strong light, the center of each defined feather was a vibrant, near-lurid red. Their gold trim glinted in blinding flashes. Jason counted six wings in total, though it was a bit difficult to tell when two of them began jostling for position. It was almost as if they had a mind of their own.

The bottom two on each side drooped low, and their metallic edges just brushing the grimy asphalt. There were patches on all of them that were the color of a starless night sky, as if someone had pulled the feathers away and revealed tiny voids of negative space.

Jason found that if he looked at one of the patches of nothingness for too long, his eyes began to water and the skin around them began to itch.

He looked away pretty quickly after that.

Soon, it would finally hit him that  _ nothing _ that had happened that morning was  _ at all _ normal.

But Jason was still waiting.

“So,” Jason started. “How long do we have before that fucker catches up to us?”

Tim shrugged. Behind him, his wings flared before retreating behind him in a tight cluster. 

“We should be fine for now. Did you see how much trouble it had clawing its way onto the moral plane? Something like that is powerful but slow. It’s probably still on the other side of the bridge trying to figure out where we went.”

“Probably?”

Tim shrugged again. 

“What, you can’t… do something angelic-like and sense where it is?” Jason asked.

Tim looked at him like he was an absolute idiot before busying himself picking at the feathers of his upper left wing. 

When it didn’t look like Jason was going to get an answer, he let his head fall back against the glass. The coolness of it seeped through his hair and into the skin beneath it. It was grounding, in a way.

“... maybe I could at full power,” Tim said, finally. When Jason looked up, he was tracing a hand around the edge of one of the larger void-like holes in the wing. A single finger slipped from the edge, darting inside the gap and disappearing into nothingness before Tim pulled it back. “But torture really takes it out of a guy.” Tim’s tone was distant. Cold. “Though I suppose you’re right. I  _ can’t _ tell where it is, and right now I don’t know enough to guess.”

His eyes snapped to Jason. In the overbright streetlights, they  _ glowed. _

“Even more reason to keep moving. I’d  _ hate _ to rush you but …”

Jason got the very distinct impression that Tim didn’t care if he was rushing him or not.

“There  _ will _ be more,” Tim insisted. “There are  _ always _ more....”

For a moment, Tim’s eyes seemed to look past Jason and the building behind him. God only knew  _ what _ that freaky asshole was really seeing. And because Jason’s training as a priest had clearly made him a  _ paragon _ of tact, he said the first thing that came to the top of his head.

“If you’re waitin’ for me to say that Talia was right, you’ll be waiting a while.”

Tim’s glare was a knife, freshly-sharpened and gleaming. He shifted his foot, and a thin plume of smoke rose from the suddenly bubbling asphalt beneath.

“ _ Focus _ .” Tim said. “We need to concentrate on getting out of this city before more demons tear their way into this plane of existence. Or, worse, the ones that have already come through  _ find us. _ ”

“And how do you plan to do  _ that? _ ” Jason raised an eyebrow. “The busses won’t run until morning. And I’d call an Uber or some shit but  _ somebody  _ smashed my phone.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, it hit Jason that Tim had still been unconscious for that part. But it turned out to not matter when Tim didn’t acknowledge what he said anyway. 

“She conscripted you into this idiocy but didn’t give you  _ anything _ resembling transportation?” Tim asked, caustically.

“Well…”

Talia had said  _ something _ about a car, right? But that would have been all the way back at the church...

Tim inhaled deeply, held Gotham’s polluted air in his lungs for a moment, and then let it out in the most frustrated exhale Jason had heard in the entirety of his short human existence. 

The angel walked forward until he stood right in front of Jason. This close, it really stood out just how much  _ taller _ Jason was - not that that meant he’d forgotten how easily Tim had slung him around like a sack of potatoes. 

Without warning, Tim thrust his hand forward and beneath Jason’s jacket. Even through the fabric of his shirt, Jason could feel a trail of heat where Tim’s knuckles brushed against his side.

“ _ Hey, _ ” he started. “At least buy me dinner first - ”

Tim glared up at him, unimpressed. His hand left Jason’s side, diving into what was  _ apparently _ a pocket sewn into the inside of the Talia-approved leather jacket. A pocket that Jason hadn’t even known was there.

When Tim pulled back with something metallic glinting between his long fingers, Jason’s face felt like it was one stray spark away from catching fire.

Between them, Tim held aloft a set of dull, slightly battered keys. And, with deliberately exaggerated movement, Tim pressed one of the key’s buttons. 

Behind him, something chirped merrily. In his surprise, Jason nearly gave himself whiplash with the speed with which he looked over Tim’s shoulder. 

Not even ten feet behind Tim, the previously empty street suddenly  _ had a random car in it.  _ It was a rusty piece of junk, sure. But the little teleporting act was enough to make Jason’s mouth drop open in surprise.

Faced with something far more interesting and comparatively less frustrating, Jason pushed off of the glass and began walking towards the car.

Tim grumbled something about being forced to work with beings who were dense even by human standards, but Jason ignored him in favor of attempting to carefully side-step the tips of Tim’s wings. Which turned out to not matter much since they flinched away from him before he could even get close enough to risk it. 

He didn’t blame them.

When he finally reached the car, Jason lightly kicked the closest tire. At the impact of his boot, the car’s wheel gave out a tired little wheeze, but it seemed real enough.

“ _ Seriously? _ ” Tim asked.

Jason turned, getting ready to argue with the angel about whatever he was complaining about  _ now _ , but Tim wasn’t even looking at him. 

He, too, made his way to the car and reached out to flick one of the edges of its rusted metal frame. Little flakes of the stuff fell down to the street below. Tim’s brow furrowed as the corner of his mouth drew down

“I guess it’s inconspicuous,” he said.

Tim leaned close enough to the car that for a disconcertingly hilarious moment, Jason though he was going to lick it. 

Instead, Tim stared so intently at the metal that Jason wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he was visually parsing out its molecular composition.

Finally, Tim stood up, exhaling sharply.

“Better yet, it’s got more wards than a coven of conspiracy theorist witches.” He traced a quick shape onto the surface of the metal, and the entire frame of the car lit up bright blue with glowing symbols that Jason thought looked a little like Tron lines. 

“It’ll do,” Tim finished, turning to Jason.

“I feel like I want to argue with you on that, but I honestly wouldn’t even know where to start,” Jason said.

“Then save us both the trouble and skip the argument. It’s not like we have a choice here anyway.”

Jason rolled his eyes, but without further ado, he grabbed the car’s back door and threw it wide.

“After you,  _ princess, _ ” he said.

Tim glowered at the nickname, but didn’t deign to comment on it. Instead he asked, “The  _ back  _ seat?” in a tone of voice so incredulous that for a second, Jason doubted his own actions.

“Uh, yeah,” Jason said. “Ain’t like the front of the car has room for all of  _ that _ .” Jason gestured vaguely in the direction of Tim’s mess of wings.

Tim rolled his eyes.

With a snap of his fingers and an ominous flicker of the streetlights above them, the wings were just  _ gone _ . Like they’d vanished into thin air. Tim shot Jason a glare that gave him a  _ pretty _ good idea where the phrase ‘fear not’ had originated from. Primly, he stepped towards the passenger side door, opened it, and got inside the car.

Rolling his eyes, Jason slammed the back door shut once more. The force of it made the rest of the car rattle and shake dangerously. Half of him expected the entire thing to fall apart then and there. Half of him wished that it would. Not only because it might get him out of this, but because  _ seriously _ ? 

Talia had said ‘understated.’ But somehow, even after everything, he kept forgetting that she was a dirty liar nine times out of ten. So, obviously, the car looked like a fucking wreck. Jason could probably pull right up to the busted theater in Crime Alley and no one would even  _ think _ about stealing the tires off this thing.

It was not and would never be Jason’s first, third, or fifty-seventh choice of transportation,  _ especially _ for the sort of cross-country bullshit Talia’s expecting from him. Sure, staying under the radar  _ was _ the point. But that didn’t mean shit if they broke down before they ever left Gotham.

Jason circled around the car, getting in on the driver’s side.

“It isn’t going to break down,” Tim said dismissively

“Can you stop fucking doing that?” Jason asked. He snatched the key from where Tim was still holding it and pretended it wasn’t taking him multiple tries to actually get it in the ignition. 

“You swear a lot for one of your order’s ordained,” Tim said, probably just to annoy him. 

The look Jason gave him was, in his opinion, the perfect blend of deadpan and really damn annoyed.

“ _ Fine _ ,” Tim said, throwing up his hands. “I’ll  _ try _ to turn off my  _ inherent telepathy _ if you try to  _ stop thinking so loudly _ .

“Ain’t like humans can control that sorta thing, feathers.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at Jason like he wasn’t quite sure if he believed him or not, but he let it go anyway.

Jason turned the key in the ignition, ignoring Tim’s flat stare as the engine spluttered to something resembling life. With a quick look behind him, Jason released the parking brake, shifted gears, and set off onto Gotham’s abandoned early-morning streets. 

Apparently, the thing drove just fine. The ride was relatively smooth despite the road’s myriad potholes, and the engine only gave off one or two terrifying splutters before quieting down a couple of minutes in. 

Not that Jason could bring himself to quite  _ trust _ the thing - with his luck it would break down just outside the city. 

It was a good thing it was getting lighter out since the headlights had started to flicker. He tried to turn on the radio and was greeted by static. The check engine light blinked on.

Jason took a hand off the wheel to smack the dashboard with more force than necessary. 

“Where the fuck did she even  _ get _ this thing?” he muttered, darkly.

Next to Jason, Tim slumped against the door, doing his best impression of a disgruntled young adult stuck on a long car trip without data or wifi. Though he supposed that sort of thing probably didn’t matter to angels. 

“We  _ can _ get bored,” Tim clarified without prompting, looking up at Jason. “Especially when stuck in such…  _ mortal _ forms.”

“Being stuck inside a meat sack makes emotions stronger,” Jason deadpanned. “Who would have guessed?”

Tim just sighed, letting his head fall back against the glass. Without looking, he raised a hand and touched a single finger to the car’s malfunctioning radio. 

The light in the car shifted unnaturally. Without preamble, the thing was suddenly functional; it lit up, blaring Gotham’s most ubiquitous pop station through the crackle of static. Tim made a face. He poked the radio again and the static disappeared, then a third time, and the station shifted from pop to something that sounded suspiciously like metal.

Jason side-eyed him. Tim stared back challengingly. 

This went on for nearly a minute.

Eventually, Jason threw a hand up before returning his attention to figuring out how long he had to drive before he reached the turnoff for the bridge out of Gotham.

The sun had just started to rise above the horizon, bathing the mostly empty roads in soft light. It was a bit incongruous with the heavy metal pouring from the car’s speakers, but at least it had distracted the angel from commenting on every damn thought that flashed through Jason’s head.

“Look,” Tim said. Jason didn’t look. “If it bothers you _ that much _ …”

In the periphery of Jason’s vision, Tim pulled out what looked like a deck of playing cards. He cut the deck, and begin to shuffle. When he had finished, he pulled the first card off the top and stashed the rest of the deck.

He muttered something in a language Jason definitely did  _ not _ understand and for just a moment, the card glowed like a fluorescent light bulb before fading back into the barely-dawn dimness.

And then he threw it at Jason with enough force to nearly take out an eye.

“ _ Hey _ ,” Jason yelped, the car swerving with his distraction. Thankfully, nobody else was out on the road to either bear witness to this idiocy or to get hurt by the fallout from it. “What the  _ fuck _ was that for?” Jason asked, scrambling blindly until the card was in his hand.

Tim didn’t answer him.

When he reached the next red light, Jason glanced down long enough to look at the card. The back of it was dark blue cardstock covered in a geometric pattern of intricate gold lines. The front of the card looked like a heavily stylized woman’s face set into the center of a low-hanging moon. A dog and a wolf looked up at the moon, howling.

“Tarot cards?” Jason asked, tucking the card into an inner pocket of his jacket. “I bet the big guy upstairs  _ loves _ that you’re carrying around a pack of those.”

When Jason glanced over, Tim’s expression was cagey at best. “They have their uses,” he muttered. “Go on, try it. Think something at me.”

Jason tried it. He thought about the gun in the holster beneath his leather jacket and the flask on his thigh containing something that  _ definitely _ wasn’t the wine of the Lord’s Supper.

No commentary on his unsuitability as a priest was forthcoming. But, the angel had probably seen the gun and flask already, or he at least knew Jason had them.

Jason tried again and brought the most un-priest like thought he could come up with to the front of his mind, projecting it straight at the angel.

And if Tim had any idea that, between his pretty face and skinny jeans, Jason thought that his mortal form was just an overly tight shirt away from fitting in with the twinks that frequented Gotham’s night clubs, well. 

He was pretty sure Tim couldn’t tell.

Tim looked at him skeptically. “Well?” he asked. “Did you think of something?”

“I thought of  _ something _ all right.” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Well,  _ whatever _ it was,” Tim said. “I didn’t hear it and I don’t want to know. Keep that card on you; it has enough of my remaining power in it that if you lose it we’re both screwed.”

“Oooh, using your big boy words, feathers.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Tim said, flatly. He reached over to crank the volume up on the radio. “And keep driving. If we make good time on the highway, we can probably reach Ohio by nightfall.”

“Remind me why the fuck you can’t just fly to California?” Jason asked.

Tim shifted like he was about to whip out his mangled wings in the middle of the car. 

“Yeah,  _ no _ ,” Jason said, hurriedly. “Not that. I mean, in a plane or something?”

Tim sighed. “Airports have too many spies. Also, planes are easy targets since no single faction of Hell controls a given airline.”

If Jason had been drinking something, he would have spit it out. 

“Say  _ what _ now?” he asked, whipping around to look at Tim. 

“Airports. DMVs. College campus coffee shops after midnight,” Tim said, unhelpfully. “Hell is basically anywhere with high concentrations miserable, suffering humans. Demons draw energy from that sort of thing, so they tend to work in those places, even if they’re contested territory.” He glanced over, something coy in the way he side-eyed Jason. “If you’ve ever thought a TSA agent was out to get you, they probably were.”

“Bullshit.” Jason grumbled, mostly to be contrary. 

Tim laughed in his face instead of giving him a real response.

Jason took one hand off of the wheel to drag it through his hair, tugging slightly as he tried not to grind his teeth in frustration.

When he saw her again, Talia was going to have a  _ lot _ of explaining to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also on [tumblr](https://vellaphoria.tumblr.com/) if you want to help me scream about these dorks XD


	3. Hell on Wheels

A _Pennsylvania Welcomes You_ sign had just flashed past when Jason decided he’d had enough of the silence. 

“So, _Tim_ ,” he started. “Or… whatever the fuck your name is supposed to be. Why San Francisco? Woulda’ thought Los Angeles would be more up your alley.”

He didn’t have to look; he could _feel_ Tim’s glare. For both their sakes, he hoped Tim wouldn’t _actually_ light him on fire and send them careening off the road. 

“Hilarious,” Tim deadpanned. “In this century, do all humans say the first idiotic thing that comes to their mind, or is it just you?”

“Depends. Are all angels such uptight little pricks?”

Tim scoffed, turning away. “Depends.”

In the passenger seat, Tim’s hands passed deftly over his cards, shuffling and re-shuffling them at a speed that Jason found slightly nauseating. It might have been a nervous habit.

“San Francisco is where my regiment is stationed,” Tim muttered. “I need to get back to them.”

“Your regiment...?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Tim said. “They’re the other angels I fight with. I guess you could compare it to a group of your human soldiers… if you multiplied those soldiers’ power hundreds of thousands of times. I’m their commander.”

Jason _almost_ succeeded in swallowing his incredulity. “ _You?_ ” he scoffed. “A _commander?_ ” 

When Jason glanced over, Tim was staring at him blankly, as if he didn’t understand what was so funny. Maybe for someone without a permanent corporeal form, it was difficult to see exactly how many pounds of muscle Jason – and most other people – had on Tim’s vessel.

“Well, ok, _commander_ ,” Jason snarked. “Why can’t you use some of those fancy commander powers of yours to get the angels to come to _you?_ ”

“ _Again_ with the idiocy,” Tim scoffed. “ _If_ I had enough power left to contact them in a way that Hell wouldn’t notice, _don’t you think I would have already?_ ” 

“Ok – let me get this straight. Not only are you in charge of other angels, but you can’t even send them a goddamn text message?”

“With _what phone?_ ” Tim asked, rotating back around to scowling. “Even if Talia hadn’t destroyed yours, we still wouldn’t be able to _use_ it without basically putting a target on our backs.”

“A payphone, then.” Jason shrugged as best he could while keeping his hands on the wheel. “Or email. Make a fucking Facebook post for all I care. _Why the fuck are we doing this cross country crap?_ ”

Tim threw his hands up. “What part of _off the radar_ do you not understand, _Father Todd?_ ”

Jason’s hands tightened on the wheel.

“How about the part were Talia just fuckin’ teleported the two of you into my church instead of, I don’t know, _bringin’ you directly to San Francisco_ ?” Jason sneered. “Actually, no. Why the fuck didn’t you just teleport _yourself_ there?”

“Oh sure,” Tim said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “A high-ranking demon just _happens_ to disappear to the exact city where Hell’s most valuable prisoner needs to escape to. _At the same time as the prisoner escapes. That’s_ going to look completely normal and not get her locked up in the ninth circle. And I’m _sure_ Hell will just _overlook_ the two of us instead of, I don’t know, _subjecting us to a millenia of torture_ when they find us. Or something.”

“You don’t look so valuable to me,” Jason says, the corner of his mouth pulling tight. “Kinda scrawny, actually. Maybe _that’s_ why you can’t teleport.”

“ _Excuse you_ .” Tim sounds scandalized. “Teleportation is a domain of the higher choirs. Unless you’ve got a spare set of wings stashed somewhere in your stupid jacket, we aren’t going _anywhere_.”

“Wait.” Jason pulls a hand off the wheel, holding it up. “Choirs are actually a _thing?_ I thought that was just some Thomas Aquinas bullshit.” 

“ _Angels_ are a thing, so. Clearly.”

And, really, that only leaves one question.

“Well,” Jason asks. “Which one are you from?”

The sound from the passenger seat may very well be Tim grinding the teeth of his mortal form.

“One that’s high enough to smite you where you sit if you keep annoying me with questions,” Tim snaps. “Now, _shut up and drive_.”

An unwilling part of Jason’s mind flashes to a dingy apartment. To beer bottles littering the floor and the red-eyed glare of his soon-to-be-dead father.

Jason wasn’t about to take orders from a guy that looked small enough for Jason to use as a toothpick.

“You know what?” he asked. “ _No_ . I want to know, and, as someone who’s driving you all the way to California, it shouldn’t be my responsibility to start all these conversations but here we _fucking_ are.”

Tim was quiet for a moment. The only sound was the hum of the car’s engine and the constant noise of wheels on concrete.

Something beneath Jason’s skin sparked, settling against his bones like ice.

The hair on the back of his neck wanted to stand on end. 

Without warning, the light level in the car dropped, darkening it until the faint backlight of the dashboard controls became almost blinding.

When Jason glanced over, Tim’s eyes began to glow. The light pulsed, gaining in strength until his pupils were barely specks.

The inside of the car washed with white light. 

Tim’s mouth fell open, more light pouring out of it. His teeth were only silhouettes, but Jason could swear they hadn’t looked _quite_ so sharp before. 

Vibrations coming from Tim’s direction rattled the car on its frame. 

Jason’s hands gripped the wheel, white with tension.

“You think you can _know_ me?” Tim said, barely above a whisper. But it didn’t matter. There was something beneath his voice. Something old and powerful that stabbed spikes of cold into Jason’s back and tightened his jaw to the point of pain.

With each word, Tim seemed to be bigger than his physical form. His skin had started to turn gold at his temples and fingers, flaring out until the color washed across most of his face and arms. Giant shadows - _wings_ , Jason thought - unfurled behind him, stretching to the edges of the car and farther still. 

Above them, the sky opened up, rain pouring out and pounding against the shell of the car. 

Jason could barely see the road in front of them. 

“ _You cannot,”_ Tim said in that terrifying, multi-layered voice. “You humans spend so long on your books and your prayers that you think yourselves experts in things you cannot _possibly_ comprehend. This “scrawny” body, as you call it? It is merely a shell. And this?” Tim cast a careless hand in a gesture roughly implying the entirety of his rapidly changing form. “This is only a reflection of a shadow. To lay eyes on my true form would drive you to madness and liquefy the bones within your body before you even had a chance to _blink_.”

Something warm and wet skid down Jason’s neck. When he brought his hand to his ear, it came away dark with blood, its contrast against his skin sharp in the piercing light.

Tim wasn’t shouting. He didn’t need to.

“You think I _want_ to be here, Jason Peter Todd? No. I do not. And if I had any way of making this easier, I would, but ‘the guy upstairs’ as you so eloquently call him fucks the world over in mysterious ways, so _instead,_ I’m stuck on a road trip with a useless, delusional priest who _won’t stop asking me questions_.”

The controls on the dash flickered, going haywire. 

A sound like thunder rocked the car, sending it skidding across drenched asphalt. 

Something near the back shrieked; metal being ripped apart. 

“Christ on a cracker, kid,” Jason shouted, slamming on the breaks, “C _alm the fuck down!_ ”

It was the middle of summer, but, like hitting black ice, the car spun off the side of the road, tires squealing. The world blurred around them, and it was all Jason could do to yank the steering wheel as hard as possible and keep them from becoming a stain on the bare rockface lining the road. 

With a screech, the car skidded to a halt, hanging off the shoulder of the road barely a foot away from the solid rock wall.

It took Jason longer than he’d have liked to admit to realize that he was not, in fact, dead.

Again.

He sucked in a deep breath and forced it back out again. Another.

The brightness in the car slowly returned to a normal, if gloomy, level. The rain lightened but did not stop.

Jason got to about fifty breaths before he was finally able to bring himself to look around and assess the damage. 

Through the haze of light rain, the road around them was utterly empty; no one for as far as Jason could see in either direction. 

He looked at Tim again. 

The angel seemed deceptively normal. No glowing eyes or golden skin. His wings had faded until Jason couldn’t even make out their outlines.

His head was sunk into his hands as if the power expenditure had given him a migraine.

“They’ll have sensed that,” Tim rasped, glaring up at Jason from beneath a curtain of hair. “We need to get off the interstate _now_.” 

Part of Jason wanted to tell this fucker exactly _where_ he could shove his orders _and_ his temper tantrum. But a larger part of him knew they had more pressing issues.

With minimal grumbling, Jason clamped down on the snappish comeback forming at the front of his brain. He may not have known shit about this asshole, but he knew Talia well enough to know she wasn’t lying about Hell coming after them. And after _that_ kind of freak out... yeah. The feathery freak had a point.

Time to get a move on.

The car groaned in protest as Jason coaxed it back onto the road. It didn’t seem to have been significantly damaged, but it was hard to tell.

When he stole a glance at Tim, he was leaning against the car door, his face pressed to the window. His eyes were closed, but Jason couldn’t shake the sense that he was being watched.

Jason turned his eyes back to the road.

He drove until they finally saw other cars and then drove farther still.

The silence returned full force.

* * *

Eventually, the rolling country gave way to civilization. 

It was the paved-over, box store and strip mall kind of civilization, but still. They could have been anywhere in America if they weren’t specifically there.

Over the hours, their mutual silence had given way to Tim’s twitching for the last half hour. 

Jason could empathize: he’d been driving long enough that his right leg had started to cramp up from riding the accelerator a bit too hard.

Shitty car. Non-functional cruise control. Fuck Jason’s life all over again, apparently. 

And, look, Jason was normally all in favor of bottling things up and never speaking of them again. 

But the way that Tim had phrased some of that rant sounded like capital-“I” Issues that probably needed addressing before they turned into full blown plot points on this stupid road trip.

“Earlier,” Jason started, clearing the roughness of disuse from his voice. “You said ‘God fucks the world over in mysterious ways.’ You’re an _angel_. What the fuck was all that about?”

“Obviously, I was exaggerating,” Tim huffed, crossing his arms. “Can’t fuck over the world if you’re already dead...” he said, turning in his seat to stare Jason straight in the eye. Challenging.

Maybe Jason should have capitalized _all_ the letters in ‘issues.’

He coughed, trying to cover his discomfort. “Like, metaphorically dead, or –”

The look Tim’s face morphed into ended _that_ line of questioning.

“Well, ok Nietzsche,” Jason snarked. “You know what isn’t dead? My appetite. I’ve been driving all fucking day – with no help from you, I might add – and we’re stopping somewhere for food.”

“Seriously?” Tim asked.

Jason glared at him.

“Ugh, _fine,_ ” he grumbled.

Jason took his next exit and exchanged the interstate for The Ass End of Nowhere, western Pennsylvania. The only thing around was one of those small shopping plazas coming up on their right. A dollar store. A small cinema. A Red Robin.

Food, or at least something that passed for it. Jason signaled to pull into the parking lot.

“Keep driving,” said Tim. 

“The fuck? I know you probably don’t need to eat or anything, but _I_ do.”

“Sure, whatever.” Tim rolled his eyes. “Just not there.”

“You got some sorta’ vendetta against burgers or something?”

Tim raised an eyebrow, giving Jason the third most unimpressed look he’d seen that day. A legitimate answer was not forthcoming.

“Burgers are fine. But we’re close enough to dusk that – look. I just have a bad feeling, alright? We should find somewhere with fewer people. And somewhere without alcohol, too.”

“So it’s burgers _and_ fun you don’t like?” Jason scoffed. “Christ on a cracker. Have you ever thought about pulling that stick out of your ass and living a little?”

Tim narrowed his eyes at Jason, probably three seconds away from commenting on him taking holy names in vain or some bullshit.

“I said burgers are–” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. Jason swore he could see something throbbing at his temple. “You know what? _Fine_. Go ahead and stop. But if something happens, I reserve the right to say I told you so.”

Jason rolled his eyes. His stomach grumbled in protest. 

“I’ll take that bet.”

The parking lot of the Red Robin was mostly deserted, thankfully, but Jason parked away from the other cars just in case. 

The walk to the front door was short, and Jason was surprised to see that Tim had decided to come with him. 

“Thought you hated burgers, birdy?” He asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans to root around for his wallet. 

“I’m not starting this again.” Tim eyed him skeptically. “You have enough cash for this?”

Jason dug his wallet out to check. 

No. No he did not. Who the fuck carried cash anymore? 

Tim sighed, waving a hand in front of him and plucking a bill from seemingly mid air. He handed it to Jason, who held it up to the light.

A fifty. Watermarked and everything; not that Jason had any idea what counterfeit cash looked like, or that he had ever spent any of his younger years working for one of the Gotham gangs that specialized in printing it. 

“Won’t that increase inflation or some shit?”

Tim shrugged. “Credit cards are too easy to track. Do you want a burger or not?”

Jason shoved it in his pocket. 

When they stepped through the door, the waitress dragged skeptical eyes across Jason’s motorcycle jacket and five o’clock shadow, giving him the _look_ underpaid waitstaff normally give Jason when he walks into a restaurant. 

Jason shrugged the jacket slightly wider, revealing the starched white collar that Jason still insisted on wearing with his civilian clothes. 

The woman’s eyes lightened, and a small smile spread across her face.

“Party of two,” Jason said, taking care to keep the Gotham accent out of his speech.

Tim raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t otherwise comment.

“Sure thing, hon,” the waitress said, grabbing two menus before leading them farther back into the restaurant.

She showed them to a booth in the back, drenched in neon that the evening hour was just starting to make effective. 

Jason picked up one of the menus, winking as he thanked her. He pretended not to notice when she left the table with a raging blush. 

“Priest kink,” Tim muttered from his seat on the other side of the booth.

Jason shrugged. “Tons of people have ‘em. Besides, you won’t see me complaining. It makes my job easier.”

“Yeah, but _I’m_ the one who has to hear all her thoughts.” Tim scowled, leaning forward across the table and muttering a description of the waitress’s fantasy that made _Jason_ blush.

“How the fuck does an angel even _know_ what that is?” Jason asked, mildly scandalized.

Tim gave him a flat look. “Far too much time around mortals. Demons think they’re creative? They don’t have _shit_ on what I’ve heard humans think about getting up to. Although – “

Tim’s face screwed up in concentration. He snuck a quick, furtive glance at the other diners, lingering on a small group of them entering the restaurant. His mouth opened, but he shut it rapidly when a waitress set two condensation-covered glasses down in front of them. She followed Tim’s view to the new group entering the building and muttered something about giving them another minute to order before brushing by the table at near-superhuman speed.

It was the look of a woman who knew rush hour was about to start.

Once she was far enough away to be out of earshot, Tim narrowed his eyes, leaning across the table once more to meet Jason’s concerned stare.

“Do you want me to say I told you so now, or do you want to hear it later?” Tim asked, eyeing the side of the jacket concealing Jason’s gun

With an unsubtle eye motion from Tim, Jason looked back to the group being seated in an open, half-circle booth. They seemed normal. A bit caught up in whatever they were discussing, but – then it clicked.

Jason knew their kind. They were a little _too_ engaged, trying to cover up the way their eyes would slip to Jason and Tim’s booth every few sentences. Watching them. Waiting for something.

“Can we just assume you already said it and skip to the fun part?” Jason asked.

“Don’t count on it, holy man. I’m not letting you live this down anytime soon,” Tim said, reaching beneath the table and pulling out a strange silver rod-thing, roughly the size of a track baton.

The energy in the room shifted, causing the few lurking servers to book it with all the subtlety of wage slaves noticing a particularly unpleasant repeat customer in the parking lot. 

The group had given up pretense, and instead stared, unblinking, at Jason and Tim. It was eerie, to say the least, and Jason’s hand drifted beneath his jacket, disengaging the closure on his holster and getting a good grip on his gun. 

With a wet squelch, one of the demons unhinged her jaw, extending the bottom of it much farther than should be possible for a human body. A long, snakelike tongue uncoiled. It flicked through the air, sending a small spray of saliva across the table beneath her. And _through_ the table. Wood smoked as the spit melted straight through it and pooled on the floor.

So, fast-acting acid, not spit.

Fucking _perfect_.

The rest of them had started to shift too. Horns. Tails. An extra eyeball or three. The one on the left – nope. Jason wasn’t going there. 

For all that Talia had never quite been able to fool him into thinking she was human, she had never appeared to be anything but.

Next to Jason, Tim shifted uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders. He winced at their apex, suppressing a reflexive jerk. 

“You sure you shouldn’t just try to book it?” Jason offered.

Tim turned to glare but didn’t stop stretching.

“Look, I ain’t about to tell you not to get yourself killed fightin’ these guys. It’s no real skin off my nose if you do. _But_ if you get yourself captured again, it’s _my_ ass Talia’s coming after, and I definitely care about keepin’ _that_ in one piece.”

“What are you, a coward?” Tim scoffed. “Aren’t priests supposed to ‘do the bidding of the Lord’ or some shit?”

“Well, like you said,” Jason shrugged. “God is dead. ‘Sides, you annoy me, and if you die, I can go back home.”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Heh, don’t I. Death will do that to a guy.”

Tim made a face, shifting his shoulders once more and pushing himself out of the booth. He flung his arm out, and the baton in his hand extended outward _._ And outward. It kept going until it was about as tall as Tim and glowing faintly silver against the dim neon of the restaurant 

The demons rose to meet him. Jason pulled his gun from its holster, thumbing the safety off as he slid out of the booth to stand next to Tim. 

“Those won’t do much more than slow them down,” Tim said, shifting his stance to account for the demon circling to their right, trying to flank them. 

“Then, the fuck am I supposed to do? Draw a pentagram on the floor and hope one of them walks over it?”

Tim’s look could have cut steel. “ _No, idiot_ . That only works on TV. Just… I don’t know. You’re a priest, _figure it out_.”

The first demon looked like her legs had fused into a single, thick snake tail. It undulated in sidewinder curves, keeping her at the perimeter of the restaurant. Something radioactive green glowed at the corners of her mouth. Jason would have wondered what kind of range she had, but he had a bad feeling he was about to find out.

Tim shifted until his legs were shoulder length apart, gripping his staff with two hands. His eyes were burning again, but the wings were nowhere to be seen.

The first demon charged. Her long, gazelle legs sent her bounding forward, fangs bared and no weapons but the claws protruding from her hands. Not from her fingertips. From her _hands_. She had more of them than fingers.

Tim stepped forward and, faster than any human could move, swung the staff. It hit her midsection, throwing her into a wall wrecking-ball style. He turned the momentum into a low spin, sweeping the staff against the legs of a second demon and cracking the insectoid freak’s chitin into even more segments. 

The demon hissed in rage, digging the tips of mantis arms into the floor to try and claw his way back into Tim’s personal space.

But Tim was already gone, up and spinning out of reach, staff arcing back into a sharp blow to the back of the bug demon’s head, splitting what must pass for his skull with a sickening crack. 

The thing _screamed_. 

A bloodcurdling shriek tore its way through the air, splitting Jason’s ears. He’d only just thrown his free hand up to cover an ear when the noise stopped, abruptly, and the guy just… disintegrated. Until all that was left of him was a smear of ashes that Tim’s next steps trampled into the tacky carpeting.

Tim planted his staff and vaulted over the next demon. This one was horned, and his arc just barely cleared razor-sharp points. The demon turned too fast, swinging with spiked forarms and catching Tim on his descent, carving bloody gashes into his arm. Tim cried out, the surprise of it throwing his rhythm enough for the lurking snake demon to pull her head back, like she was charging up a shot of acid.

With no time to think, Jason leveled his gun at her and fired. Even across a chaotic room, his aim could give professional marksmen a thing or two to think about. 

The bullet hit her right between the eyes, embedding between two patches of lighter scales that could be mistaken for eyebrows. The demon hissed, arms flailing as she jolted back in surprise. It gave Tim just enough time to drive the end of his staff through the base of the horned demon’s skull and turn on the snake.

She stared straight at Jason as she reached up and, with two thin, tapered fingers, plucked the bullet from the new hole in her head, tossing it away like garbage. 

Jason blanched. That shot would have killed a normal person immediately.

“Have I said ‘I told you so’ yet?” Tim yelled over his shoulder. “Because _I fucking told you so_.”

“Ya know, a short ‘thanks for saving my worthless skin, Father Todd,’ would have done _just_ fine.” Jason snarled back, leaving the two of them to their fight. He had other, more _immediate_ concerns. Like the clawed, gazelle demon rising from the wall she had just helped renovate. One leg was twisted obscenely, avulsed bone protruding from where the force of Tim’s throw had bent it out of place. But the demon was still advancing. Her leg dragged behind her as she limped forward, nearly frothing at the mouth with each step. Jason held his gun level with her head, for all the good that that would do.

Now, a less petty man might not have muttered Tim’s warning to himself in a mock-high, petulant whine, but. Jason never claimed he wasn’t petty. _You’re a priest,_ the little shit had said. _Figure it out_ , he’d said.

Well, stuck between a booth and a royally pissed off demon _and_ with only an ineffective gun between them… yeah, that didn’t really give him much to work with. He could climb the table and go for the high ground, but the height advantage would only work for so long.

Across the room, Tim was busy dodging spurts of acid grossness, so Jason wasn’t expecting a last minute save or anything either.

Unless - 

He really hoped this wasn’t something that only worked on TV.

He lunged for his glass of water, signing a quick cross over it and muttering something that might have been the Lord’s prayer if he hadn’t tried to say it in the space of a breath. Glass in hand, he swung around, throwing it full force in the demon’s face.

Her expression might have been even more surprised than Jason’s when she fell to the floor, hissing and snarling as water burned through her skin like acid. 

Jason didn’t move till the demon stopped, stepping forward to nudge her with a boot’s steel toe. The nudge must have been the tipping point though, because the second Jason’s boot touched her, she collapsed inward in a pile of ashes, like some sort of disgusting imploding piñata. 

Jason smirked. He couldn’t wait to see that little shit’s _face_ when he realized that Jason had _figured it out_.

He looked back up, glancing at Tim’s fight just in time to see him crack his staff against the snake demon’s throat so hard that her head snapped sideways. The severity of the action was deeply at odds with the gentle fall of ash that followed.

Tim turned back to Jason, ignoring the remains of his fallen foe. His eyebrows climbed higher than Jason had yet to see them when he took in Jason’s own puddle of ashy water and shards of glass.

“Holy water,” Jason said, smug. “Why didn’t you say anythin’ ‘bout _that_ workin’?”

Tim glared back at him, his mouth pressed in a flat, stubborn line.

“Holy shit,” Jason crowed. “You didn’t _know_ , did you?” 

_“Fuck off.”_ Tim growled, all but confirming Jason’s suspicion. He waved a hand through the air, vanishing the staff and pulling a few more bills out of seemingly nowhere before crossing to Jason and slamming them down on the table. Hundreds, this time. And a lot of them. Enough of them to cover the property damage to the restaurant and maybe even the legal fees of the traumatized waitstaff. Then he grabbed Jason’s wrist so hard that Jason thought it might snap.

“What the hell?” Jason yelled, trying to pry Tim’s death grip off of him.

“We’re leaving,” Tim hissed, dragging him towards the exit.

“What about food?”

“Do you _want_ to die? Because if we stay here after _that_ little display, _we are going to die_. I’ve already expended enough power today; if I use any more on killing lesser demons, I won’t be able to shield us from Hell’s wandering gaze.”

It had gotten dark while they were in the restaurant, but the cool night air was a balm against Jason’s nerves.

“Like, literally? Don’t tell me they’ve got some Eye of Sauron bullshit going on?”

Tim’s silence was stilted and uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure how much to say.

“Jesus fuck – that’s exactly what they have, isn’t it? How cliché can you _get?”_

“Very. The man in charge down there comprehends neither subtlety nor trademark law. Being forced to look at his wardrobe choices for more longer than five minutes is a worse punishment than any other you’ll find in the depths of Hell.”

“So Satan is tacky is what you’re tellin’ me.”

Tim took the last few steps to the car in silence, moving to the passenger side to yank his door open with enough force to shake the car.

“Ha ha, _very funny_ ,” Tim said in a tone that implied it was anything but. He slid into the passenger’s seat, wincing as his shoulder hit the car’s exterior at the wrong angle. They’d have to see what they could do about it whenever they found a place to stay for the night.

“But, no,” Tim continued as Jason ducked in and closed the door behind him. “Or maybe. I don’t actually know, but it doesn’t really matter since he’s still locked up.”

A beat. Tim’s look was incredulous. “Don’t tell me they let you wear that collar and you’ve never read Dante?”

The key turned easily in the ignition, the display powering to life and casting a faint light across the both of them.

“I have. Earlier, you said it was bullshit.”

Tim shrugged. “Most of it is basically biblical fanfiction, but you know. Broken clocks are right twice a day and all.”

“Now you’re just making this up as you go,” Jason muttered beneath his breath, shifting to reverse to pull out of their spot.

Tim glared. He didn’t deny it. “ _Just start driving._ Stay off the interstate. I’ll stop you when I see a place.”

Somehow, Jason got the feeling he wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!!
> 
> Also, a huge shout-out to the lovely members of the [Tim Drake discord](https://discord.gg/GEJuUXw): you all provide me with endless inspiration to keep writing, and I'm honored to be a part of this community <3


	4. The Devil You Know

Jason was right. He wished he wasn’t. 

Tim didn’t stop them for a while. So long that, eventually, they passed the Pennsylvania-Ohio border via a small, relatively unused road instead of the interstate. It wound through a quiet, heavily forested area that might have felt peaceful if they hadn’t attacked by demons only hours earlier.

But instead, Jason couldn’t stop seeing a limping, clawed, gazelle woman in every shadow. It was all he could do to keep the paranoia in his brain and the tremor in his muscles from sending them off the side of the road.

Which, of course, was when a hand landed on Jason’s shoulder.

“There,” Tim said. Suddenly. Without warning.

For the record, Jason did _not_ yelp in surprise. That’d be ridiculous. 

Tim’s expression was slightly startled when Jason bothered to check, but he seemed to have enough tact to not mention it. 

Which would have been a first. But Jason wasn’t about to look a gift angel in the gaping, improbably tooth-filled jaw.

… and now he had another reason to be jumping at shadows. 

Fucking _perfect_.

At Tim’s direction, Jason steered the junkmobile down a small side road that wound lazily through the thinning trees. Just under five minutes later, they broke through the tree line, emerging at the edge of a small, sleepy-looking town. 

Next to him, Tim sagged back into his seat.

“This’ll work,” he sighed. “Nothing big. Nothing ‘fun.’ Hell shouldn’t have an agent for _miles_.”

“Shouldn’t or _doesn’t?_ ” Jason muttered, even as he drove up the mostly empty road cutting the town nearly in half.

Tim didn’t answer.

The hairs on the back of Jason’s neck felt like they wanted to stand on end but didn’t want to pass judgement quite yet. He chalked it up to the creepy-ass forest they’d just driven through.

“We could keep going,” Jason said, side-eying Tim. “There’s still a few hours of daylight left.”

Tim raised an eyebrow at him.

“Look,” Jason said. “I’m just saying it’s an option. We might be able to find somewhere that doesn’t feel so… _off_.”

“Off?” Tim asked, tilting his head. Jason got the impression that Tim was genuinely curious about what he meant.

“Yeah,” Jason said. “ _Off._ I dunno, just got a bad feeling is all.”

Tim opened his mouth, but his response was firmly cut off by a low rumble from Jason’s stomach. It echoed through the car with a sense of finality, taking all the air out of Jason’s argument as it went.

“I’m not exactly an expert on human anatomy,” Tim said. “But are you sure you’re not just hungry?”

“No thanks to you…” Jason said beneath his breath.

“I’m sorry, did you _want_ to be ripped to shreds in a shitty chain restaurant?” 

“... no comment.”

Tim huffed, leaning his head against the glass.

“There’s a motel in about a mile,” he said. “We’re stopping there for the night.”

Jason hadn’t exactly known Tim for long, but he knew enough to pick up on the guy’s _argue with me and lose three fingers, slowly_ tone of voice. Arguing just wasn’t worth it, and he could reluctantly admit that Tim _did_ have a point: Jason hadn’t eaten since before they met, and his stomach was making its displeasure known. Loudly.

Following Tim’s terse directions, Jason pulled into the parking lot of a motel that had seen better days. Though those days were probably before Jason was even born. On the horizon, the sun was just beginning to dip beneath the treetops, but there was still enough light to drown out the dimly flickering vacancy sign. 

Jason pulled the car up to what looked like the main office, parked, and started to get out of the car.

Tim started to follow.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, pausing with one foot on the asphalt and the other planted on the driver’s side floor mat.

“… checking in?” Tim asks. “That’s still what people call it, right?”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Jason said, staring him down. “I might have never been to this shithole of a town before, but the ass end of nowhere is just about the same everywhere. Odds are that the second the two of us walk in there _together_ askin’ for a room, that vacancy sign turns _off_.”

Tim shot him a _look_ , but he sat back down anyway. “ _Mortals_ ,” he muttered darkly.

Jason made his way to the office.

One conversation with a half-sleeping manager and an exchange of some summoned cash later, Jason walked back to the car, room keys in hand. No questions asked – which was about as good of an outcome as Jason would hope for in the middle of fucking nowhere, Ohio.

The room was as expected.

The door opened with a long, sorrowful creak to reveal yellowed, peeling wallpaper and a carpet that might have had a pattern a couple of decades ago. It was hard to tell beneath the layer of dirt, ashes, and substances with origins Jason didn’t care to speculate on. 

Tim followed him in, recoiling for a second at the sight of it.

“What?” Jason asked. “Not up to your standards, princess?”

“Be thankful you cannot see all spectrums of light, mortal,” Tim hissed, shuddering. “There are things that cannot be unseen.”

Jason … was going to do his level best not to think about what Tim was seeing or where, exactly, he was seeing it. And step one of making that easier was walking right back out the front door.

“... where are you going?” Tim asked.

If Jason didn’t know better, he’d think that Tim sounded concerned.

“Food,” Jason grunted. “Since _some of us_ actually need to eat and the Red Robin was a bust.”

Tim looked like he wanted to argue, but considering it was part of his argument for stopping in this shithole, he didn’t have much ground to stand on.

“You still have the card?” he asked.

It took him longer than it probably should have to remember what Tim was talking about. When he did, Jason patted his jacket, right above the inner pocket where the tarot card was stashed. 

Tim spent a long moment eyeing both of the beds before shuffling over to the one farthest from the door and collapsing on top of it face down. 

“I won’t be able to track you as long as you have that,” Tim said from beneath a curtain of black hair. “But neither will anything less powerful than I am. So, be careful and don’t die.” Tim poked his head up just enough to make eye contact with Jason. “Or, if you _do_ die, try to die in a way where I can grab the car keys off your corpse,” he said.

“First of all, fuck you.” Jason crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “... you’re not coming with?” he asked.

Tim glared at him. 

Jason didn’t budge.

“Ugh, _fine_ .” Above Tim, six oversized red-gold wings materialized. The patches of empty blackness seemed to be bigger than they’d been that morning. “I may have _possibly_ overextended myself in the fight earlier. So, no, I’m not going with you because I need to rest before my corporeal form starts breaking down at the cellular level.”

“Um…?”

“You heard me.”

“Sure, whatever.” Jason shrugged. “Try not to simultaneously combust while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” Tim said, though the words were somewhat muffled by the mattress. 

Jason figured that was as good as he was going to get. So, with that, he stepped out into the parking lot and closed the door behind him. He took the key but didn’t bother locking it. The shit door knob was probably nothing against anything dangerous enough to pose a threat to Tim. 

When he turned around, the parking lot was still mostly empty, though it had collected a few more cars as the motel’s few residents began returning for the night.

Jason’s stomach grumbled, reminding him of his mission.

He could have taken the car. He probably _should_ have taken the car. But Jason wasn’t really feeling it. Besides, there was a small gas station that they’d passed on their way into town, and he needed some time to clear his head. 

If before taking off down the road, he surreptitiously checked his gun to make sure the magazine was still mostly full, well. That was his business.

The walk was short and uneventful. The sky grew dim but not quite dark, though the shadows on the side of the road deepened considerably. Dark grass began to fade into the distant silhouettes of houses and looming, far-off hills. 

Even though it wasn’t quite night, the pool of light cast by the gas station’s overhang still felt like a blessing when Jason reached it. 

The single employee in the station stood slumped against the counter, tiredly scrolling through her phone. Jason took his time picking out a pre-packaged sandwich that looked like it probably wouldn’t kill him. And, when he got to the counter, he had the cashier pick out a pack of cigarettes that probably would. Eventually.

He didn’t smoke too often anymore. But even though whatever Talia did to his body had fixed the physical nicotine addiction, it didn’t do _shit_ for the psychological dependence.

And this was the kind of night where Jason was feeling particularly dependent.

The cashier barely blinked when he asked. Probably because despite the starched collar, something about over six feet of leather jacket-wearing muscle asking to buy cigarettes probably registered as an immediate ‘yeah, that makes sense.’

Jason just rolled with it. 

And, since he had some time and a surplus of nerves to kill, he only took his purchase about five feet out of the store before lighting up right in front of the nearest payphone. The cigarette glowed red against the fading sunset. Smoke lingered in the air around him. The buttons on the phone pressed in with stiff little clicks, run on the change leftover from Jason’s purchase.

The phone only had to ring once. 

“How the fuck did you get this number?” Answered one Roy Harper: part time vigilante archer and, after Jason’s mysterious disappearance and _reappearance_ via mysterious circumstances, full time Jason’s emergency contact.

Not to mention his best friend.

“Because you gave it to me, _dumbass_ ,” Jason growled, right into the receiver. 

The sharp _thwack_ of a bowstring sounded across the line. Roy breathed out, sharp and satisfied. 

“Jason! What a surprise” Roy paused, sounding vaguely like he was running. Jason heard crunching gravel and a grunt as Roy landed on it, maybe rolling from the volume of it. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate your calls – you should call more, actually – but this is maybe not the best time.”

“It’s like… barely six in Gotham. Why the hell are you out this early?”

“Try again, Jay,” Roy said. “It’s three here. Broad fuckin’ daylight.”

“You’re out in Star? Thought that wasn’t for another few weeks?”

Roy groaned in a way that said _blame my adoptive father_. It was a very familiar sort of groan. 

“Again?” 

“ _Again._ I can’t tell if he’s just getting more helpless as he gets richer, or if he’s just yanking my chain.”

Jason suspected Ollie was neither helpless nor actively trying to aggravate his foster son, but he wasn’t about to say anything considering his own record of interpersonal communication. Also, he would prefer that a couple quivers’ worth of red arrows _not_ be lodged in the stonework at the front of his church. Again.

“Well fuck,” Jason said. “But I guess you don’t need to be in Gotham for this, so.”

“What? Second life crisis? You finally giving up on that religion bullshit?” On the other end of the line, Roy laughed like he was some sort of comedic genius.

Jason glowered. “Are you going to stop running around in spandex and shooting people with a goddamn bow like it isn’t the twenty first century?”

“Yeah, yeah. Touché and whatever,” Roy laughed. “What do you need?”

“Still got that will and testament I gave you on hand?”

“… yes? Jason. Do we need to talk? Are you–”

“ _No_ ,” Jason cut him off. _“_ It’s not that. It’s just... Talia, again. She’s calling in the debt I owe her on pain of eternal torture or something, and things are getting’ real hairy, real quick. Might need you to get things in order if they go too far south.”

“ _What the fuck, Jason!_ Where the fuck are you? Fuck Ollie and fuck Star City, tell me where you are and I’ll fly the fuck out there _right now_ and–”

“ _No,_ Roy _._ It’s just a _shit_ situation. I’m not dragging you into it.”

“What? So you can get yourself killed? _Again?_ ”

Jason’s silence was pointed.

“Ah, shit, man. I’m sorry. Patrol kinda destroys any sorta’ filter I’ve got.”

“That’s funny. I thought you didn’t have one normally.”

“Yeah, you and Ollie both. Sometimes it seems like _Dinah’s_ the only one around here who appreciates me.”

Jason laughed hard enough that it was less commiseration and more intentional offense. “Wouldn’t go _that_ far. Ain’t she still mad at you for the last time you drove one of Ollie’s cars into the harbor?”

“The _last_ time? It was _one_ time and you know it. And I got him a new one.”

“Doesn’t count since you _stole_ it _._ ”

“Yeah, _stole it from the_ _mob._ Step off – it ain’t stealing if it’s already stolen. Ya know who taught me that? _You_ did, before all this priest bullshit.”

“Thought that you got it from Ollie’s Robin Hood shtick?”

“Eh, semantics.”

“That’s not – no. That word doesn’t work like that, you dumb fuck.”

Roy cackled like he was very much aware of that and was just yanking Jason’s chain. Which was why he was exactly Jason’s kind of bastard.

Jason let him have his fun for about a full minute before coughing, signaling a return to business. 

Roy shut up quick enough after that. 

“Look,” Jason said. “Do you still have it or not?”

Roy sighed. “Yeah, I have it,” he said, begrudgingly. “Look, just. Keep me updated ok? And _promise_ me you’ll call me if something goes _really_ sideways?”

Jason grumbled something unintelligible but when Roy’s utter silence didn’t end, he knew that Roy wasn’t going to let him get away with this one. “Ok, _fine_ ,” Jason relented. “If some shit goes down, you’ll be like the second person to hear about it.”

“Only second? I’m offended. Unless… you aren’t with Talia right now are you? ‘Cause that’s _such_ a bad idea.”

“ _Fuck_ no, I’m not with Talia. You don’t need to tell me that she’s trouble – I remember it very distinctly. I’m just … moving some cargo for her.”

“Uh-huh,” Roy said. “That sounds totally legit and not sketchy at _all_.”

“Well, it ain’t like it’s _in_ accurate.” Jason snarked back.

“Suuuuuure,” Roy said, drawing out the word to an almost ridiculous length. “Fine, keep your secrets, you bastard. Just don’t expect me not to say ‘I told you so’ if this blows up in your face.”

Jason tactfully didn’t mention that it was probably a matter of ‘when’ rather than ‘if.’

“I’d expect nothing less,” Jason said. “Hell, you’ll probably be able to say ‘I told you so’ with _interest_.”

“That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, Jay.”

“Well,” Jason said. “It’s the best you’re gonna get.”

“I hate you,” Roy grumbled.

“I know.”

They spent the last of Jason’s change talking about useless, inane shit. But by the end of it, Jason felt much calmer than he’d been since before Talia darkened his doorway for a second time. As he hung up, he made a mental note to buy Roy a beer or ten if he made it out of this alive.

With the phone call and hopefully unnecessary arrangements behind him, Jason turned to the road leading back to the motel. Night had fallen since he started his walk, and the asphalt was lit by faint moonlight and the occasional weak streetlamp.

Tim would probably be worried about his absence by now… maybe.

Distantly, Jason hoped that Tim had been successful at patching himself up. Then he told himself that the only reason he even cared in the first place was because Tim was currently his best asset in a fight. Then he thought that was a little much and considered revising the thought.

Then - 

Jason’s boot soles thumped softly against the pavement at the edges of the road. 

It was a long walk back.

* * *

Too long, maybe.

Not just because it was dark already, either.

When Jason got within a stone’s throw of the room, he was close enough to see that the door was slightly ajar. 

His heart pounded in his chest. Sweat gathered on Jason’s palms, but he wiped it off as his hands itched toward his gun.

He _very distinctly_ remembered closing that door, and Tim didn’t seem like the sort to be open-door-in-unfamiliar-place levels of careless. Jason’s hand drifted to the holster strapped to his side. For the second time in twenty four hours, he pulled his gun, flipping off the safety and clasping both hands on the grip.

When he reached the door, a faint light was spilling out from the gap and he could hear quiet, angry voices on the other side of it. When he’d first unlocked it after getting the key, the thing had creaked like a motherfucker. There was no sneaking up on whatever was inside.

Jason pressed himself against the frame, just out of view of the gap and the window, and waited. 

He didn’t have to wait long.

“What do you _want_ ,” someone hissed, trying to be quiet. It sounded like Tim, but Jason couldn’t be sure. The voice was strained. In pain, maybe.

“Straight to business? Just like that? You _wound_ me, Tim,” said someone else. The voice was deeper, a baritone to Tim’s tenor. 

“I can’t tell if you’ve lost the capacity to understand irony, or–,” the room echoed with a sound like someone straining and the creaking of wood. Tim groaned again, definitely pain, this time. “– or if you’re really _just that dense_.”

Whoever was in the room with Tim started to laugh.

“Shut _up_ ,” Tim snapped. “Or if you can’t even manage that, take this thing out of my wing and make it a _fair_ fight.”

His wing. Whoever it was knew Tim, or at least knew what he was. 

“I’m not sure _fair_ is quite the right word here,” the other person said. “I heard about you’re little stunt on the highway. _Quite_ a show… it’s all Hell’s agents are talking about, really. But you used a _lot_ of power on it.”

Jason stifled a gasp. Hell. Did that mean that whoever was attacking Tim was a demon of some sort? And if they’d caught him unawares...

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tim hissed.

Silence.

“Fine enough to take _you_ on, at least,” Tim muttered.

“Oh really?” The intruder asked, probably rhetorically. “Well, there are ways to test that theory, baby bird.” 

Jason didn’t like the sound of that. As quietly as possible, he started getting into position.

“Exhibit A,” the demon continued. “If you _really_ think you can stop me, even at less than a quarter of your power, it shouldn’t even be an issue when I do _this –_ ”

Jason shifted his weight to his back leg, planting the sole of his boot on the ajar door and kicking. The door _slammed_ open, making both of the room’s occupants jump.

“Hey!” He shouted, gun pointed at the figure looming over Tim. “Get the fuck away from him.”

The demon – and, now that Jason was in the room, this was _very_ obviously a demon – blinked at him, then stared down at Tim in confusion. He had him pinned – literally – with a dagger slicing through one of Tim’s supposedly incorporeal wings and stabbing into the floor beneath it, however _that_ worked.

Tim hissed, “Don’t you even _dare–_ “

But the demon wasn’t listening. In a blur of blue and grey it was across the room. With a swipe, it knocked the gun out of Jason’s hands, sending it flying into the room’s far wall.

Jason followed, the back of his head slammed into peeling wallpaper by a clawed hand wrapped around his neck. The impact forced the air from his body, sending him gasping. The hand tightened with inhuman strength, claws sending pinpricks of pain into the back of his neck. Jason brought his hands up, trying to hit the demon, to free himself, _anything_. But it wouldn’t budge. His lungs seized, fighting for oxygen. His muscles shuddered from lack of it. 

Just as he felt his eyes begin to roll back in his head – 

The hand loosened, letting Jason fall into a slight slump. His head fell back against the wall, lolling a bit. His breaths were quick and desperate.

“ _Father Todd_ ,” the demon said, voice curling like smoke against Jason’s ears. “I’ve been looking for you.”

 _What the ever-loving_ fuck.

“Leave him alone!” Tim shouted, though the effect was somewhat mitigated by his being pinned to the floor. “It’s _me_ you’re after.”

“Perhaps,” the demon muttered, pressing closer to Jason. His sharp inhale turned to a gasp when the demon’s face was _right there_ , something like fire burning in pitch black eyes staring up at him from under dark bangs. It was humanoid, or at least humanoid enough. Every line of muscle in the demon’s body felt perfect pressed against Jason’s chest. 

“Hell’s pretty empty at the moment,” the demon’s voice was a low purr in Jason’s ear, framed by lips just barely brushing the line of his jaw. “Maybe I’m here for something else, too. And since _you_ seem otherwise occupied…”

The words slid across Jason’s skin, slipping beneath his jacket and sinking down to his bones until he couldn’t think much beyond _yes_.

There was a low, whimpering sort of sound that, in a rush of internal mortification, Jason realized was coming from him. Something thick and textured curled around his waist to hold him in place. A sharp point at the end of it dug into this back, forcing him to arch further into the tight heat of the demon’s hold. A wickedly sharp claw tip traced the line of his jugular, his jaw, sending a shudder through Jason’s body.

“Found yourself a _sensitive_ one, Timmy. Maybe it’s all that imposed celibacy taking its toll.” Against the sensitive skin just behind his ear, he felt the demon grin, “Is _that_ what does it for you? I admit, I’m surprised. It’s a bit of a departure from the last time you–”

“It isn’t like that,” Tim spat, cutting him off. But the sound seemed distant to Jason. He felt his head forced slightly down to meet the demon’s gaze, and he found he couldn't look away.

“Really?” The hand left Jason’s throat to cup the side of his face, angling him so the demon spoke against the corner of his mouth. “I think I know a thing or two about _want_ , but if you insist…”

The demon’s lips met his and, though something was screaming in the back of Jason’s brain, he couldn’t bring himself to pull back. The kiss was gentle at first, just soft, dragging motion. Jason’s eyes fell closed, as the demon hummed his pleasure into Jason's mouth. 

Jason’s knees felt weak. Something at the core of him whispered that he wanted to please this demon, and that he was so _good_ for giving in. For letting himself have this. The words burned like fire in his chest, beneath his ribs. 

The demon pulled back, a string of saliva stretching and snapping between them. He smirked.

“Stop.” Tim said, somewhere behind the demon, almost pleading. “Just stop.”

At that, the demon only laughed. Not the loud, maniacal sort of laughter that Jason had always suspected Talia of indulging in as she watched sinners slow-roasting in the fires of hell. No. It was more of a quiet, under the breath sort of chuckle. If melted butter had a sound, that was it. 

The demon rolled its eyes conspiratorially, like he and Jason shared some sort of fond exasperation for the angel whose wing the demon had punctured. He swung his head around to meet Tim’s glare, releasing Jason to fall into an involuntary slump on the floor. 

“Just because you can’t appreciate _art_ , Timmy –” the demon started, crossing the room to crouch in front of Tim.

With the distance came clarity, and though Jason wasn’t sure _what_ he had been seeing before, the demon’s shadowy figure resolved itself into dark gray scales and electric blue markings defining the demon’s arms and chest.

It wore nothing resembling clothing, and Jason felt what blood of his that wasn’t otherwise occupied rush to his face.

Where he was still pinned to the floor, Tim hissed up at their intruder. “Oh, I appreciate _art_ . What I _don’t_ appreciate is a _traitor_ showing up unannounced and, more importantly, _uninvited_ , and trying to kill someone under _my_ protection.”

“I’m not trying to _kill_ him, little bird,” the demon laughed. “I’m trying to _seduce_ him.” With that, the demon turned back to Jason. He didn’t know _what_ that expression was, but it made him deeply uncomfortable. For multiple meanings of the word.

“With you?” Tim scoffed. “That’s basically the same thing.”

This time, the demon definitely pouted.

“ _Rude_ , Timmy. _You_ survived it.”

Tim spluttered, letting go of the dagger entirely to throw both hands in the air. One of them tried to take a swipe at the demon, but he just leaned back out of reach, laughing. 

“Let it go already!” Tim said, a flicker of light flashing across his eyes and grey just beginning to creep onto the edges of his face. “It was _one_ time. _And_ –”

“Ah ah ah.” The demon said, moving to place a finger over Tim’s lips. Tim seemed too surprised to stop it. “Privileged information, baby bird. Besides, I’m sure that _Father Todd_ here wants it to be a _surprise_ when he finds out how desperately you can moan for someone to hold you down and _take you_.”

Jason felt his mouth opening to ask a question and abruptly shut it before he probably got himself killed.

Tim shook with fury, his face somewhere between rage and mortification. His eyes sparked, skin fading to a pale wash.

“That’s _it_ ,” he snarled. “I’m going to kill you. I am _going_ to kill you. Take this knife out of my wing. See what happens. Do it – I _fucking_ _dare_ _you_.”

“ _Language_ , Timmy,” the demon said, oddly stern, “Your manners seem to have gotten worse while I was gone...”

Tim snarled, glaring so hard at the demon that Jason thought he might melt on the spot. He tactfully neither laughed nor pointed out the irony in a denizen of Hell being put off by something as small as swearing.

The demon, perhaps thankfully, wiped the disapproving expression off his face and went back to smug and vaguely smoldering in about one second flat. 

“But I guess it doesn’t matter. I _am_ only here for one reason, after all.”

“And what would _that_ be?”

“Call it… supervision. The last few years haven’t been kind to you, and _someone_ has to keep you safe in Heaven’s absence.” The demon glanced back at Jason, unimpressed. “It doesn’t look like _he’s_ really up to it.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Tim said, still glaring, “Even if I _believed_ that, I don’t _want_ your help.”

“Too bad. You may not want it, but you do _need_ it. At least if you want to make it to San Francisco alive.”

“What would a _traitor_ know about it?” 

“Ra’s _does_ have his spies–”

“ _Don’t_ say his name.” Tim spat.

“Fine, fine. Fair enough,” the demon said, holding up two clawed hands in a _calm the fuck down_ gesture. “But you have to admit you aren’t going to make it there in one piece, _especially_ with his army on your trail. And after what you did to that restaurant, well. Without time to heal, you don’t have that many more fights left in you. Not to mention that kind of expenditure leaves _quite_ the distinctive trail…”

“What, you’ve been _following us?_ ” Tim snapped.

“Tim. _Half of_ _hell_ is following you. And the other half is in chaos. Ra’s’ favorite prisoner escaping right out from under him? Who _exactly_ do you think your freedom benefits? _I’m_ here to make sure her investment pays off.”

“ _Why?_ You _hate_ Talia.”

“... I have my reasons.”

“Just like you had your reasons for _leaving?”_ Tim demanded, his voice going deep and multi-layered in a way that Jason had come to associate with imminent danger. It wasn't just the voice either. Tim looked like he was about to explode. None of his skin even _resembled_ human coloration anymore, and his eyes shone like beacons in the night as light escaped them in what looked like wisps of smoke. His wings had almost fully manifested, the splay of red and gold feathers jerking erratically. The holes in them were still just as numerous.

“So, Tim,” the demon said, leaning forward to place a hand on the handle of the dagger. “I’m going to let you go now, and you’re _aren’t_ going to make a scene. Because we can both be calm and _rational_ about this, right?”

They stared each other down, neither of them blinking. 

Jason tried to shift forward, out of the slump, but his muscles weren’t responding.

Eventually, Tim let himself fall back to a lying position. The tension seeped from his limbs and the wings faded back into intangible mirages. He blinked, and his eyes were blue.

The demon nodded, yanking the dagger out of Tim’s wing and the floor beneath it, vanishing the blade as easily as Tim did with money and tarot cards.

“See?” The demon asked, offering Tim a hand up. “That wasn’t so hard–”

Tim took the hand and something _snapped_.

In a second flat, he was back to full angel mode – grey and bristling with light pouring out of him and six agitated wings snapping out so far that their wingspan _destroyed_ the drywall of two separate sides of the room.

“You are _so fucking dead_ ,” Tim hissed, yanking the demon’s hand close enough to say it right to the demon’s face.

The demon yanked his hand back, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Without warning, Tim barreled into the demon, sending the two of them _through_ the curtained window – and some of the wall – at the front of the room and out into the parking lot with a resounding crash.

From where he had only just managed to stand up, Jason saw paint and plaster rain down on the cheap carpeting, falling from the suspiciously large hole now gracing the motel’s wall. He stumbled forward, the newfound distance between him and the demon letting him recover enough to only be coughing a little at the effort. 

“ _Jesus fucking Christ…_ ” he muttered under his breath, staggering to his feet.

What had he gotten himself into?


	5. A Match Made in Hell

Jason barely took one step towards the newly renovated wall before a loud, thundering crash rocked the building around him. The pictures that hadn’t already fallen off the walls scattered across the ttacky motel carpet. The lights in the room flared and shattered. An ear splitting screech forced Jason to cover his ears, and when he looked to see what had caused it, he saw that the hole in the motel’s wall was suddenly bigger. Which might have had something to do with the _half of a car_ sticking out of it. Beyond the now-blocked hole, it sounded like a storm was raging.

That would probably be Tim…

Since the hole wasn’t an option anymore, Jason sprinted to the door instead. It was - oddly enough - fully intact, and slightly ajar from Jason’s earlier dramatic entrance. He pulled it open, coming face to face with a pileup of cars. He ducked around them until there was no clear way forward and he was forced to climb over them. Jason felt suddenly and guiltily grateful for the leather jacket Talia had magiced onto him, since it was better protection from the broken glass than any of his normal clothes would have been.

By the time he finally dropped down off the last car onto the pavement, the parking lot was a _wreck._

It didn’t just sound like a storm. It _was_ one. Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed, striking the ground in front of Jason in a blinding, sizzling line that scorched the pavement black and sent his hair standing on end. Above the parking lot, low-hanging clouds swirled in an ominous vortex. 

On the ground at the center of it, Tim and the demon clashed. Tim held his staff in two hands, unaffected by the lightning that danced on its glowing surface. The demon carried two smaller metal rods, both crackling with energy. Their movements were so fast that they seemed like nothing more than a blur of motion to Jason’s eyes. Every now and then their weapons would lock in a shower of sparks that scattered around them like a field of dying stars. 

Tim twirled, wings flashing out. Jason wasn’t sure _what_ they were made of, but whatever it was was strong enough for his primary feathers to leave a long, glowing slash in the demon’s skin. 

The demon hissed in pain, letting go of one of his sticks in favor of pressing his hand to the wound. The weapon vanished before it even hit the ground, and Jason wondered if it disappeared to the same place that Tim’s did when he wasn’t using it. 

“That _hurt,_ Timmy,” the demon growled, eyes locked on Tim as they circled one another. 

Tim spat on the ground between them, bearing his teeth at the demon. Even from where Jason was standing, they seemed sharper than normal. He suppressed a shudder and tried not to think about it.

The expression on the demon’s face contorted, but Jason couldn’t quite interpret the emotion behind it. 

Neither could Tim, it seemed, and the moment he stood staring was a moment too long. 

With a whirl of motion, the demon spun around Tim, catching him low with his remaining stick and sweeping his legs out from under him. It sent Tim crashing to the ground, wings sprawled around him. The broken one ended up beneath him, and Tim let out a guttural cry of anguish as he landed on it. 

But the jolt of pain wasn’t enough to keep Tim down. His face contorted in agony, Tim struggled back to his feet, clutching the wing with the hand not holding his staff between him and the demon. The demon took a step forward, hand outstretched. He looked … concerned? 

Maybe Jason had hit his head harder than he thought when the demon dropped him. Clearly he was seeing things.

“Tim!” The demon shouted over the storm, taking another step. “Stop! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Like _you’d_ even care, _dick_.” Tim shot back. 

Something seemed off about the insult’s inflection, but Jason didn’t have time to ponder. 

The next second, the demon shot forward, bowling Tim over and pinning him to the ground. This time, his injured wing was splayed out to the side, out of the way.

The storm still raged around them, but the lightning let up enough for Jason to get closer, moving forward as fast as he dared.

“Of course I care! I never _stopped_ caring!” The demon had Tim’s arms trapped beneath one of his. The other still held the demon’s weapon, the side of which was pressed against Tim’s throat. Tim’s staff - knocked free when Tim fell - had rolled off beneath a distant car. Jason was still too far away to help… though he wasn’t sure there was anything he could even _do._

“Then why did you _leave?_ ” Tim shouted up at the demon, fighting against his grip. But the second wind of his transformation seemed to be leaving him, color bleeding back into his skin and drowning out the pale gray. 

The demon still looked like a demon. He didn’t answer, but he did let Tim’s hands go, his own arms giving out as he collapsed onto Tim’s chest. Tim threw an arm up over his head to cover his eyes, but he didn’t try to throw the demon off.

The storm faded, dissipating into thin air and leaving a thoroughly ruined parking lot behind. Near the reception office, a car alarm was going off. The manager poked his head out of the door, looking shaken as he pulled out his phone. With trembling fingers, he punched in a number and began speaking in a frantic voice.

With the path clear and the danger past, Jason rushed to where Tim and the demon had fallen.

“Look, I don’t know what sort of soap opera shit you’re fighting over,” Jason snapped. “And I don’t _care_ . But we need to get out of here. _Now_.”

Tim moved the arm from his face, glancing up at Jason with bleary eyes. At Jason’s gesture, he looked up and behind him, to where the motel manager was almost certainly calling the police.

“ _Shit,_ ” Tim muttered, pushing at the demon’s shoulder. The demon only wrapped his arms around him, holding tight. “Get the fuck off of me,” Tim said. “I _need_ to leave.”

The demon looked up, resting his chin on Tim’s sternum. “You mean _we_ need to leave.” 

“ _No_.” Tim narrowed his eyes.

The demon pouted. “I said I’d protect you.”

“Even if I wanted to be on the same _continent_ with you, there’s no way in _Hell_ that I would go _anywhere_ with you. _._ ”

“This _isn’t_ a negotiation.” The demon insisted, tightening his arms around Tim’s torso. “Don’t be stupid about this, Tim,” he pleaded. “You _need_ the help. Look at you. You don’t even have enough power left to _shield_ yourself, let alone to keep up a one-angel fight against the hordes of Hell. And believe me, if I could sense you from across the state, it’s _only_ a matter of time before Ra’s people figure out _exactly_ where you are. You know this. Talia knows this. She sent me for a _reason_.” 

Tim looked like he wanted to try biting off the demon’s nose.

“Wait,” Jason said, his eyes growing wide. “ _You’re_ Talia’s agent?”

They both looked at him with varying levels of confusion and, in Tim’s case, condescension.

“Um, yeah?” The demon said, perplexed. “I thought that was obvious?”

“Was part where you were _obviously_ here to help us when you stabbed Tim or when you tried to strangle me? Honestly, I couldn’t tell,” Jason snarked. 

The demon at least had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry about that. Force of habit, I guess?” He looked back to Tim, resting his chin on the angel’s sternum. “The knife thing was just to keep him from leaving, though. I knew the second he saw me he’d be halfway across the state, probably alerting everyone on _both_ sides to his presence.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Tim snarled, finally succeeding in shoving the demon off of him. “Can’t you take a fucking hint? Did it ever occur to you that if I’d literally run away at the sight of you, maybe I _don’t want to see you?”_

The demon pushed himself to his knees, staring down Tim. “Did it ever occur to _you_ that that’s exactly the kind of impulsive, _stupid_ move that’s going to get you captured again?”

“Oh Hell _no_ ,” Tim said, scrambling to his feet and backing up until he could lean on one of the upturned, partially destroyed cars. “ _You_ do not get to lecture me on ‘stupid and impulsive moves,’ mister _I defected the moment it seemed convenient just to spite Bruce_.”

The demon glared, hissing, “I didn’t do _anything_ just to spite Bruce and you know it.”

“Hmm. No,” Tim crossed his arms, “I don’t.”

Now that the situation had calmed down from thunderdome death match to surprisingly petty squabbling, Jason felt his frustration boiling over.

“Hey assholes _,_ ” Jason cut in, shutting them both up again. “Unless you want the police,” he jerked a thumb towards the motel’s main office. “And – apparently – _Hell_ to find us here, we need to _go_. I don’t care who betrayed who or who defected from what or _any of that shit_. You can sort it out when we’re _anywhere but here_.”

Jason crossed to Tim and dragged him up from his slouch with an arm. He got the distinct feeling that Tim _let_ him.

“If Talia sent him, she sent him for a _reason_ ,” Jason muttered into Tim’s ear. “And he had _plenty_ of opportunity to drag you back kicking and screaming while I wasn’t here, so, really, just stop being a little bitch and find a fucking car so we can _leave_.”

“I don’t understand how you’re so calm about this.” Tim furrowed his brow. “Especially after what he tried doing to you in the hotel room…”

“And if he tries doing it again,” Jason shot a sharp glare at the demon, causing him to put his hands up placatingly. “I’ll stab him, cut his dick off, and drown him in holy water. And if I’m feeling generous, I’ll do it in that order.”

The demon winced, bringing his hands to cover the object of Jason’s ire in a move that looked subconscious. 

Tim stared at the demon with an unwavering glare. “As much as I’d _love_ to have a front row seat to that, it wouldn’t last. Dick’s a succubus these days… he’d probably just grow it right back.”

“These days…?” Jason asked. 

“Don’t worry about it,” the demon said, a bit too quickly. “Besides, a _crucial_ detail that Tim here is leaving out is that I can have as _many_ dicks as I want, at _any_ time. It’s too bad I hadn’t had more practice with that when we _made love_.” The demon stared at Tim intently. His tongue traced his lower lip. “The possibilities really are endless.”

Tim snarled, looking like he was ready to restart the fight. 

Jason reflexively threw out an arm, blocking Tim from moving forward despite the ludicrous difference in strength. 

The standoff between the two of them lasted for about ten seconds before it hit Jason.

“Wait,” he said. Tim and the demon snapped to look at him, surprised at the interruption. “You’re telling me that he’s an incubus. And his name is _Dick_ . _Please_ tell me that’s a joke.”

If nothing else, it shattered the tension like a brick thrown through glass. 

“Well he _is_ a joke but the name? Not so much...,” Tim snickered before nearly falling from the force of his laughter. 

The demon - Dick, apparently - looked affronted. “It isn’t like I _planned_ it that way.” 

“You sure about that?” Tim said. “Because -”

In the distance, Jason heard the telltale sound of a siren cut through the night.

“Okay – forget the name,”Jason cut in. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Already on it,” Dick said, veering back on track surprisingly quickly. With a wave of its hand, the beat up Honda appeared before them, completely undamaged by the fight.

“ _Seriously?”_ Jason asked. “You can trash a parking lot but you can’t do better than _that?_ ”

Dick scowled. “Are you suggesting we just _leave_ it? Do you have _any_ idea how many wards Talia put on this car?”

“Can’t you just transfer them to a better damn car or something?”

“Oooookay, Tim I don’t know what you’ve been teaching this guy, but it isn’t enough. Get in the back.”

“Why do _I_ have to be in the back?” Tim asked. 

“Do you _want_ to mess up your wing even more?” Dick stepped closer, jabbing the wing in question for good measure. Tim flinched at it, narrowing his eyes, but he got into the backseat without arguing further. For what felt like the thousandth time that night, Jason wondered exactly _how_ these two knew each other… aside from an apparent sexual history that Jason did _not_ want to think about. 

He reached for the driver’s side door, only to be stopped by a hand. A claw-less hand. When Jason looked up, it was at a human only a little shorter than him. Dark grey had richened into warm amber, hiding any traces of Dick’s markings until the only blue on him was his eyes. Something sparked in them, catching Jason’s attention like a lure. If Jason hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought Dick was a human. And a very _attractive_ human at that...

“Stop that,” Tim said, sticking his arm out of the back window to smack Dick. “We aren’t going to make it out of here on time if you try screwing him in the car.”

Dick sighed, rubbing his arm where Tim had hit it. “Aww, Tim. You’re no fun anymore.” But he let Jason go, shoving him back as he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.

Jason stood there blinking. He probably would have stayed exactly like that for a while, but the sirens were closer now, maybe only a block or two away. 

He sprinted to the other side of the car and made a dash for the passenger seat. The moment his door was closed, Dick floored the accelerator, tearing out of the parking lot much more quickly than the car should have been able to move.

He flicked a hand and Jason’s bag materialized above him, scaring the fuck out of him when it landed in his lap without warning. Behind them, sirens screeched. In the car’s mirror, Jason saw an officer lean out of the police car’s passenger side window, holding a megaphone aloft and shouting something at them.

Jason scoffed. In his first life, he and his motorcycle would have run _rings_ around these idiots.

By the time they hit the I-90, they were going easily three times the town’s speed limit, and the cops were left far behind them, done in by wind resistance and sub-par motors. 

They blasted through the merge, making at least three cars swerve out of the way to avoid the wrecking ball on rocket fuel that was Dick’s driving. Normally, Jason would say something. It was reckless, and kind of a – _heh_ – dick move. But no one died and Jason was annoyed with the current state of the universe, so he let it go, smirking when Dick punched the radio and it immediately turned to something fast and loud.

Jason had _missed_ this.

“Don’t get used to it.” Tim eyed Jason’s expression. “Traffic laws _do_ actually still apply if we get caught, and Dick here doesn’t have a license.”

“Neither do you, Timmers!” Dick shouted over the music, swerving around a semi. The truck blared its horn, loud enough to rattle the frame of the car. 

“Just keep driving,” Tim muttered, darkly, wings curling around him as he ran his hands over them, trying to smooth down ruffled feathers. “And don’t forget to let the mortal sleep.”

“Not tired,” Jason said, even though the sentence was chased almost immediately by a yawn.

Tim didn’t comment further. When the silence started to turn from stubborn to awkward, Jason pulled out the pack he had bought at the gas station earlier that night. The second cigarette slid easily from it, resting in Jason’s hand as he searched his pockets for a lighter.

Before he managed to find it, Dick snatched the cigarette from Jason’s fingers, twirling it between two of his own. He placed the filter between his lips and the opposite end ignited, seemingly without any other encouragement. 

“Now, now,” Dick said, smirking around it. “We wouldn’t want you to go breaking your vows, now would we, Father?”

“Too late for that,” Tim said. He’d moved on from spot-preening his wings to mildly flailing in frustration at just how out of place his feathers were. Dick, keeping one hand on the wheel, reached back to try and smooth out some of the closer ones, but Tim knocked the hand away with a snarl. He wrapped his wings closer around himself, curling as far into the corner of the backseat as he could.

Dick pouted.

Eventually, Dick passed the cigarette back, looking to Jason with a quirked eyebrow. 

Not one to back down from a challenge, Jason took it and shoved the filtered end in his own mouth, taking a drag from it. The paper tasted like cherries and a hint of … was that cayenne pepper? It was an unpleasant contrast with the nicotine, and Jason only held it a second or two longer before passing it back with a grimace.

Dick shrugged with one shoulder, flicking the half of it that was left out his window and onto the asphalt that edged the grassy center strip of the highway. 

One of Tim’s wings swiped through the front of the car, passing through Jason but smacking Dick on the arm.

“ _Hey_ ,” Dick said, half-turning to glare at Tim. “What was _that_ for?”

“ _That_ was for you throwing a burning piece of paper out the window in the middle of drought season. What if there’s dry grass?”

“Oh sure.” Dick rolled his eyes. “Because _Ohio_ is known for its wildfires. Lighten up, Timmers.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that,” Tim hissed, leaning forward for a better position from which to argue. 

Jason listened for as long as it was amusing and then listened a little longer just in case one of them dropped a hint about what the fuck was even happening. 

He had no such luck. Rather than learning the secrets of the universe, he found himself instead learning a lot about the pettiest parts of the conflict between Heaven and Hell with little said about the overarching power dynamics involved or why Tim was caught in the middle of it.

Eventually, the promise of sleep began to weigh heavily on his eyelids, and ,with a vague sense of curiosity amusement, Jason found himself drifting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recent events have both given me more time to write and been utterly terrifying.
> 
> Stay safe out there and remember to wash your hands!

**Author's Note:**

> Don't start another WIP they said. You have too many already they said.
> 
> Well, they're right. But I don't care :D
> 
> Also, a shout out to salazarastark for inadvertently convincing me to dust off my WIP folder and pull this out of it! (and for double-checking the summary for me!)
> 
> The title is borrowed from "Pagan Angel and a Borrowed Car" by Iron and Wine, and combined with the term used for biblical works of unknown authorship and/or dubious origin.


End file.
